Your Haunting Ghosts
by And She Would Fall Xx
Summary: Just as his life finally begins to settle down, Harry's world is changed by the mysterious appearance of a boy who has one request: find out who murdered him. As Harry delves into the mystery, he'll uncover parts of his own past he never knew existed.
1. Chapter 1

**Author's note (please read, it's quick!):** So this story has been on my computer now for quite some time. It's not entirely finished, but I do have around 50 pages written. I'm only home for a short while, and the computer it's saved on is here, so I'll probably be updating about a chapter a day. I hope to completely finish and publish this story by the time I go back to college. While reading, please keep in mind that this is fanfiction. It won't adhere strictly to the events that occur in the books, and I'll be fudging the timeline a bit, as well.

In this story, Harry and his friends are seventh years, and the war is over. All the people who died will still be dead, unless I declare them somehow still alive at a later date.

Anyways, I hope you enjoy. Please review! I haven't posted anything in a long while, so it would be nice to get some feedback :)

Oh, and also, I obviously don't own Harry Potter. Don't sue me.

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><p>"<em>The tender words forgotten, the letter you did not write, the flower you might have sent, dear, are your haunting ghosts tonight." –Margaret Elizabeth Sangster<em>

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><p>By his seventh year at Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry, Harry Potter figured that he knew the Gryffindor common rooms better than he knew his small room at 4 Privet Drive. He knew how many stairs in the winding stone staircase there were leading up to the boys' dormitory. He could close his eyes after climbing into the portrait of the Fat Lady, and make it to the red cushioned couch in the middle of the lounge without tripping over Neville, who was usually crawling on the ground, looking for his toad, Trevor, or walking a few steps in the wrong direction, and falling into the glowing red fireplace. God knows how many times he had stumbled into his dorm, bleary-eyed, already half-asleep, and successfully pulled back the curtain to the correct bed before falling into the cot, and out of consciousness.<p>

The boy lounging on his bed, however, he was not familiar with.

Harry had been feeling rather victorious about having successfully avoided another dreary Potions lesson, being taught by his least favorite professor, Professor Barron, Snape's replacement. He walked with his closest friends, Hermione Granger and Ron Weasley, halfway there, before faking a sudden illness and rushing back to their common rooms. Nobody, he figured, should ever be forced to wake up at such an ungodly hour of the morning. Skipping Barron's class to get a few hours more of sleep seemed like the logical thing to do. The brunet walked cheerfully up the stone steps, preparing himself for a glorious nap. When he opened the door however, the simple pleasantry was pushed to the back of his mind.

The boy looked so at home. He was stretched out on the bed, his arms crossed behind his head. His skin was pale and his hair was an unattainable white-blond, making him look almost unhealthy. His eyes were closed, he was frowning almost imperceptibly, and seemed impossibly still, but Harry got the feeling he was awake.

He stuck his hand into his cloak pocket and curled his fingers tightly around his wand. He cleared his throat, drawing the attention of the other boy. Harry was right – he had been awake. His eyes were a pale blue-grey, and despite his sickly pallor, the boy's eyes were wide and alert. He took in Harry's rigid figure, and smirked.

"Hello," the boy said, politely.

Harry's hand remained wrapped tightly around his wand as he took a step closer to the stranger. "Who are you?" he demanded.

A muscle in the boy's jaw twitched, and his playful smirk turned into something of a grimace. "I knew you wouldn't remember," he muttered.

"What are you talking about? Remember what?" Harry struggled to suppress the growing panic he felt. He had been in situations far worse than this one, after all.

The boy sat up in his bed, swinging his legs over the side, and pinched the bridge of his nose. After a moment of silence, he opened his eyes and stared at Harry. "Nothing. It's nothing."

"Who are you?" Harry asked once more, pulling the wand slowly, menacingly out of his pocket.

Pushing himself off the bed, the blond gave no sign of having noticed, or having cared about, Harry's threatening gesture. He looked around the circular room, taking in his surroundings slowly. "You know," he started, his voice smooth as silk, "I always wondered what the Gryffindor common rooms looked like. I was never too interested, but it was a passing curiosity, like how I wonder what keeps the fires in this castle burning at all times, or what kinds of charms enchant the ceiling of the Great Hall." He thought for a moment and then added. "Appears I wasn't missing out on very much." The boy had a slow, drawling voice, making it sound as though he was rather bored with their conversation.

Harry blinked at the intruder, confused, and trying to ignore the obvious slights against his home. "So you go to school here?"

The boy tilted his head and leaned against the wall opposite of Harry. "You could say that."

"Obviously not a Gryffindor, though."

He scoffed. "Of course not."

Harry rolled his eyes. "A Slytherin, I bet."

Nodding proudly, the boy confirmed his suspicions. "Through and through."

"Well, what are you doing here?" Harry asked, putting his wand back into his pocket. Whatever the kid wanted, Harry now doubted that he wanted to do any real damage. He seemed far too relaxed for that, and his wand was nowhere in sight.

The boy stood and walked towards him. "As appalled as I am to be here, doing this, I must ask you a favor."

Harry was vaguely aware of the door opening and closing behind him. "What do you need?"

"Ah, sorry, Harry!" Harry's attention was ripped away from the stranger as Neville Longbottom answered him. "I forgot my Potions textbook, and Barron will have my head if I'm not back soon." He scurried to the trunk beside his bed and started rummaging through it for his book.

Harry shook his head, "No, sorry, Neville, I wasn't talking to you. I was talking to-"

"I wouldn't tell him if I was you," the blond interrupted. His cool demeanor had been replaced by an amused smirk that confused and irritated Harry.

The brunet furrowed his brow and continued, "- that bloke, over there."

Neville looked up, confused, to where Harry was staring. The blond boy's grin grew wider as Neville turned to Harry. "What bloke?"

Harry, confused, began to point him out once more, but stopped. The boy was shaking his head slowly, never taking his eyes off of Harry. '_Don't do it,_' he mouthed.

"Uh, n-never mind," Harry stuttered, understanding all at once. Neville couldn't see the boy… Could he?

Neville eyed him warily before nodding. "Alright then, mate. I'd better get back to Potions. See you later." He nodded and left. Harry watched him go, and waited until the heavy wooden door closed behind him to turn back to the intruder.

"Why couldn't he see you?" Harry demanded impatiently.

The boy continued to grin mischievously at him, not bothering to mask his pleasure at Harry's confusion. "You really don't know, Potter? Well, I suppose I shouldn't be surprised. You always have missed the things that are most painfully obvious."

"_What_ is so painfully obvious?" Harry yelled, letting his frustration get the better of him.

After allowing for a few moments of tense silence, the blond answered simply, "I'm dead."

"No, you're not."

The blond blinked, taking in the swift response. "I'm not?"

"No," Harry asserted. "Nearly Headless Nick is dead. The Bloody Baron is dead. You are not dead. You breathe. You're standing on the ground, leaning against a wall. Everyone can see the ghosts, but Neville couldn't see you. Tell me why."

Raising his eyebrows, the blond answered, "I was so unaware of how oblivious you are to the dead." He continued, cutting Harry off before he had the chance to respond. "Not all ghosts are like those buffoons that fly aimlessly about this castle. Me? I like to be more subtle about my… talents. For example, I could put my hand through the wall right now, but why should I?" To prove his point, he shook his hand in front of his face, and in the next moment, it was gone. Harry had hardly blinked, but in the moment, the blond had taken his entire forearm, and put it seemingly inside the wall.

"I could float about," he said, bringing his arm inside, and levitating a foot off the ground, "but that seems unnecessary, when I am still perfectly capable of walking." He planted his feet firmly on the ground.

"And as for that bloody idiot not being able to see me, it's a bit harder to explain." Harry noticed that though the stranger sighed, as if burdened by having to elaborate on such a simple topic, his eyes lit up. He was probably just excited to be showing off knowledge that Harry did not possess. Harry had only known the boy for several minutes, so he couldn't say for certain, but he was fairly sure that the blond was the type to think himself above everyone around him. More than a few Slytherins were like that, anyway, so it wouldn't be a completely unreasonable accusation. "Though those idiots swoop around the Great Hall, completely indifferent as to who might see them, I'm a bit more cautious. We all have the ability to reveal ourselves to whom we please, but they just don't see the benefit in hiding themselves from anyone." He sighed, and shook his head, as if even the thought of it greatly offended him.

Harry chewed his lip, trying to process the large amount of information that had just been thrown at him. "So… you're really dead?"

The blond threw his hands up exasperatedly. Of all the questions to ask… "Yes, Potter, I'm dead. Do you think you can get that through your thick skull, or will I have to put my arm through another wall for you to understand?"

Harry glared. "Why do you know who I am? Who are you?"

"Who in this great wizarding world doesn't know Harry Potter, the Boy Who Lived?" he asked, his cold tone and bored expression returning.

The brunet saw red, stepping towards the boy angrily, but the other held up his hands. "In all honesty, I mean you no harm, Potter. I need you to complete a task for me."

"And why should I?" Harry asked skeptically.

"Because you're the only one who can," he mumbled. He fixed the collar of his plain black button up shirt, and stepped forward, hand outstretched. "My name is Draco Malfoy. I was murdered last year in this castle. And I need you to find out who killed me."

Harry stared at the hand being offered to him as if it was poisonous. "This can't be happening to me."

Draco snorted. "Yeah, poor _Potter_. The dead bloke has the nerve to ask you to find out who brutally murdered him. You really got the short end of the stick." He drew back his hand, crossing his arms over his chest.

Harry glared. "That's not what I meant."

"Then, by all means, enlighten me. What did you mean?"

"I just meant…" Harry hesitated, realizing that Draco had basically summed up exactly what he had meant. "I mean, this just can't be real! I'm a seventh year. I would know if someone had been murdered here last year, wouldn't I?"

The blond ran a hand through his hair. "Not necessarily."

"What do you mean?"

"Don't you think I would tell you if I could?" Draco snapped, his façade dropping for a few seconds before he was able to recompose himself. "I would love to tell you everything that happened, and then just be off on my merry way to Heaven or Hell or Purgatory or... whatever the bloody hell comes after this." He slowed down and drew in a deep, calming breath. "Unfinished business is more complicated than it seems. I am physically incapable of just giving you all the answers." He stared down at his hands, curling his fingers into his palms to form fists, and dropping them to his sides, never raising his gaze. "Somehow I just… I just know what needs to be done." He paused for a moment before glancing back up at the brunet. "And I know it needs to be you that does it."

Harry shook his head slowly. "So… what happens if I can't figure out who killed you?"

Draco glanced upwards thoughtfully. "Well, then I guess I'll be sticking around for a long, long while. Watching your every move, even when you're not aware of my presence. Slamming doors shut at random. Breaking your prized possessions. Haunting you, so to speak." The smug boy smirked at Harry and tilted his head. "We'll make quite the pair, won't we, Potter?"

Gulping, the brunet replied hastily, "I'll help you. But if I ever, _ever_ find you watching me in the shower, you're finished."

Draco grinned. "I already am."


	2. Chapter 2

**Author's note: **Hello again! Just a quick thanks to everyone who favorited and alerted this story, and especially to my reviewers! Sorry for the late update, but it's been a busy day. Hopefully the third chapter will be up by tomorrow night. Happy reading!

PS - If you enjoy, don't forget to leave a review! :)

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><p>"<em>Your eyes say the joke's on me. But I'm not laughing, and you're not leaving. And who do I think I am kidding, when I'm the only one locked in this cell?" – Dashboard Confessional, 'Saints and Sailors'<em>

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><p>"Alright," Harry began, throwing himself onto his bed, and fishing a quill and spare roll of parchment from underneath his bed. "Let's start off with the basics. I should get to know you a bit more, shouldn't I?"<p>

Shrugging, Draco moved to sit on Ron's bed. "I don't know. I suppose that's logical."

Harry nodded and dipped his quill carefully in ink. He wrote in big, square letters across the top, 'Draco Malfoy'.

"You're writing everything down, Potter?" Draco asked, his usual smirk in place.

Glaring up at the boy, Harry nodded brusquely. "I'm helping you, aren't I? You don't get a say in how the job gets done."

"Fair enough," the blond concluded. "But take care to make sure that paper stays private. I'd rather nobody else knew about our… predicament. In fact, I'm insisting that it stays a secret."

Harry hesitated. "Not even my friends Hermione and Ron? I'm sure if I told them, they would have no problem helping me figure out what happened to you."

"_Especially_ not those two," Draco stated indignantly.

"And why not?" Harry asked, aware that his tone was borderline whiny.

Draco gritted his teeth. "I thought we were clear on how this 'unfinished business' stuff works, Potter. You follow my orders blindly and willingly, or I'll be stuck here for much longer than either of us would like." Harry had drawn his wand before he even knew what he was doing, and before Draco had finished speaking.

Briefly, Harry could see panic in the blond's eyes. Before Harry could blink, though, it was gone, replaced by a casual half-smile that betrayed his amused interest. Something akin to cold curiosity that made Harry shiver.

"What do you plan on doing with that, eh, Potter?" Draco taunted. "Going to curse me, are you?" He stood and walked over to where Harry was sitting. He grabbed the brunet's wand hand and raised it so it was pointing directly at his throat. "Well, do your worst. I'm already as cursed as they come."

Harry glared into Draco's cold slate grey eyes. Hexing him would feel good, he imagined. It wouldn't hurt the other boy, as he was fully aware, but it could be therapeutic. Holding the wand up to his pale throat felt wrong, however, for reasons he couldn't place. He lowered his shaky hand and returned his wand to his pocket, feeling ashamed and foolish.

"We should probably just get back to your background," Harry muttered.

Draco hovered over him for a moment later, relishing in the power he held at that moment, before returning to Ron's bed. "Good idea, Potter."

All traces of a smile gone from either face, the two were ready to get to business.

"So, Draco Malfoy, tell me about yourself."

"What do you want to know?" the blond asked, leaning back against Harry's best friend's pillows. "I lead a very interesting life you know. Lots of stories to tell."

Harry rolled his eyes. "Fine. Well, how old were you when you died?"

"Seventeen."

It was hard to suppress the pang of sadness that ran through Harry. Draco had been the same age as him when he died.

"Draco…"

"Don't you dare pity me, Potter," the blond snapped. "I asked you to figure out my murder, not to be my therapist."

"…Alright. Well, tell me about your family. Your parents?"

Draco visibly tensed. "No."

Harry blinked at him slowly. "You don't have parents?"

"No," he repeated, more firmly. "I will not talk about my parents just yet."

The brunet shook his head in disbelief, laying the parchment and quill down on his lap. "So, basically what you're saying is that you want me to find out who murdered you, even though you already know who did it. You have the right to hold back information, and I just have to deal with it. Find another way to figure out who you really were – who you are, rather. Is that right?"

"That's right, Potter," Draco growled. "And you're doing this to benefit yourself as well as me, so don't even try to play the hero here."

"What?" Harry shouted indignantly, "How is this going to benefit me, Malfoy?"

Draco ran a hand over his face and then stopped cold in his tracks. "What did you call me?" he asked quietly.

Furrowing his brow, Harry repeated, "Malfoy? What? That's your name isn't it?"

The blond looked up at Harry and chuckled briefly. "That it is. You know, it's nice to have some normalcy restored, even in the afterlife." Harry was shocked to notice the corner of his lip quirked up into a half-smile. Even the smallest gesture, like that one, had the ability to change the appearance of the boy from his cold, callous self, to actually showing Harry a glimpse of the seventeen year old that wasn't always as flawless as he tried to be.

"Normalcy? Malfoy, start making some sense," Harry demanded. Draco didn't respond, but Harry could see the beginnings of what was definitely a smile.

The door burst open and slammed against the adjacent wall louder than it ever had before. Or maybe not, but Harry had been so focused on Draco that even the slightest noise could have startled him out of his trance.

"Harry, mate!" Ron called into the room. "We're all back from Potions, and me and Hermione thought we might go visit Hagrid." The redhead glanced at his frenzied friend, who was shoving papers underneath his bed, and covering an open bottle of ink. "Were you… were you just talking to someone?" Ron asked suspiciously, glancing around the room warily.

"Of course not, Ron," Harry answered quickly. "There's nobody else in here."

Harry did a double-take after glancing briefly at Ron's bed. It was empty. There really was nobody else in the room with them. At least, not that they knew of. One of the advantages of being a ghost: being able to hide at the drop of a dime. Harry wished that he had that ability. He tried not to think about how many times in his life having a talent like that one would have been beyond useful.

Ron hesitated for a moment before nodding and shrugging. "Alright then, Harry. Oh, Hermione wants to talk to you, too. She probably wants to chew your ear off for skipping out on Snape's lesson. Probably wants to snog, too, I imagine."

Harry reddened and began trying to shoo his friend from the room. "Stuff it, Weasley. Tell Hermione I'll be right down, and then we can go on and visit Hagrid."

Grinning, Ron nodded and headed off down the stairs. The moment he was out of earshot, Harry jumped out of bed, and tried to find the ghost in the room. "Draco!" he whispered violently, over and over. Whatever the reason, though, the blond stayed stubbornly in hiding. Harry sighed and stood in the middle of the room. "If you're here, Draco, then meet me in the common rooms, by the fire, at midnight." With that, Harry left, head hung low, feeling foolish and confused. _Why did these things always happen to him?_

"Harry Potter!" Hermione screeched the moment his feet hit the floor of the common room. He winced, then grinned sheepishly at his fast-approaching girlfriend.

"Hello, Hermione," he chirped as cheerfully as he could manage.

Ron grinned and laughed as the scene that he had predicted began to play out in front of him. He nodded his head towards the portrait of the Fat Lady, and Harry nodded back to convey his understanding, not wanting to interrupt Hermione's lecture. He knew that the easiest way to get through them in one piece was to just wait them out – they would either fizzle out on their own, or she would rant until a class started, or until somebody else cut in. Harry figured he should probably be more bothered by this, but he was quite used to it by now, and he didn't want to cause any drama between his tight group of friends. They all got on so well, and he liked Hermione well enough, even with her lectures. He placed his hand on the small of her back and surreptitiously led her towards the exit of the common rooms.

The trio continued on in that manner for the majority of their walk to Hagrid's. Hermione lectured, Harry zoned out, but nodded at all the right spots, and Ron looked on in glee, glad that for once, he was not the one Hermione took her frustrations out on. They made their way out the Entrance Hall of castle, enjoying the stillness of the late afternoon, broken only by Hermione's incessant whining. She stopped suddenly and tugged on Harry's sleeve. He was broken out of his trance and turned to look at her.

"You know," she started, smiling softly. "Despite that fact that you missed your lessons this morning for no real reason, I am happy to see you now."

Harry smiled broadly back at her. "I'm glad to see you, too, love." He leaned in and kissed her briefly, sweetly on the lips. He wrapped his arm around her and they tried to catch up to Ron, who had walked ahead to give them their privacy.

"_Stop right there_!"

All three screeched to an abrupt halt, searching for the cause of the disturbance. Neville Longbottom ran towards them at an alarming speed. He slid on the grass, and leaned forward, clutching his stomach.

"What's wrong, Neville?" Hermione rushed forward right away.

Neville panted, trying to catch his breath. "Trevor, he's gone missing again! But I know I saw him somewhere around here, take care not to step on him, would you?"

Ron rolled his eyes, but Hermione elbowed him sharply in the ribs before he got the chance to say anything. Ignoring his groan of pain, she responded amiably, "Of course, Neville."

"Thanks, guys." Neville nodded before leaning over and beginning to inspect the grass around his feet.

"See you later," Harry waved as they set off.

Ron rubbed his side and grunted in annoyance. "That hurt, you know. And honestly, the whole castle would probably be better off if we did step on that toad. Put us all out of our misery."

Hermione sighed and pushed her bushy hair out of her face, futilely trying to tame it despite the wind. "Oh, stop it, Ronald. He's our friend, and he's missing his pet. Try to be a bit more sensitive."

"Maybe he should be a bit more responsible with it, then," Ron pointed out, his exasperation fading with the pain in his ribs.

After a moment of contemplation, the brunette nodded. "I suppose that's a fair argument."

Harry smiled. It was good to have some normalcy restored to his day after that morning. He climbed the stairs to Hagrid's hut and knocked on the massive door. Almost immediately the door swung open and the huge man was ushering them into his home.

"Alrigh' there, you three?" he asked, restraining Fang from jumping on the visitors. Considering how massive the dog was, such an incident would probably result in a trip to the Hospital Wing.

The trio took their usual spots on the furniture that was much too large for them. Several moments later, Hagrid joined them, clasping his hands together and leaning forward eagerly.

"So, tell me about all your classes. How's the new Defense Against the Dark Arts professor?"

"Miserable," Ron answered swiftly. "He's a right git if you ask me."

Hermione looked scandalized that her friend would talk so badly about a teacher. "That's not true, Ron. Professor Barron is very intelligent-"

"-And he uses that to mock us mercilessly," Harry added. "He favors Ravenclaws, and doesn't even try to keep it a secret."

"At least it's not the bloody Slytherins anymore," Ron griped.

They all reminisced for a minute about the old Professor. The misery he put everyone through, as well as the heroism he displayed during the war.

"Well! Looks like it's about time for tea," Hagrid announced suddenly, trying to keep the visit from becoming too morose. He slapped his knees and stood, walking over to the stove. "Give the new professor a chance, you know McGonagall would never've hired the man if he wasn't brilliant."

Ron sighed heavily and Hermione nodded eagerly.

The three passed a few pleasant hours with their friend, leaving only when Ron's stomach growled so loudly that it stopped all conversation. After profusely denying Hagrid's requests that he should make dinner for them, they went on their way.

After dinner, Hermione was off to the library, and Ron was meeting up with some classmates for a friendly race around the Quidditch pitch. Though both invited Harry along, he decided to head back to the dormitory, instead. It was seven, and he was still hoping to fit in a quick nap before his meeting with Draco that night. He was exhausted.

When he woke up, it was dark, and the curtains to the beds surrounding him were all closed. Quickly, Harry cast a tempus charm. 11:50 pm. Hopefully, Draco would be waiting for him in the common rooms by midnight.

Harry pushed back the blankets, stretching briefly before reaching over to his desk and grabbing his glasses. He slipped them on and quietly crossed the room, careful not to wake anyone.

The only light in the common room came from the faint glow of the fireplace. Harry chuckled to himself nervously. It was a rather creepy setting, exactly the sort of place one might _expect_ to run into a ghost.

"Amused, Potter?"

Harry spun around, his heart in his throat. He calmed himself quickly, realizing that it was Draco, who was virtually harmless. "Am I to expect that kind of a greeting every time we meet up?"

Draco snorted. "Why? Scared, are you?"

Harry was aware that he probably seemed more than a little childish when he pouted and stomped over to the sofa, but something about the blond just aggravated him beyond words. Draco watched silently, his ever-present smirk giving him a cruel appearance when illuminated by the fireplace.

"So," Harry sighed. "What was with the disappearing act before? You were obviously still in the room when I left for Hagrid's."

Draco moved to sit on the opposite side of the couch and nodded, all traces of amusement gone from his features. "I was."

"And?" Harry prompted him.

Draco hesitated. When he realized it, he fell over himself to say something. Anything. He meant to say:

"You should be wary of the company you surround yourself with."

Yet what came out was:

"What are you doing with her?"

He knew he had messed up the moment the words tumbled from his lips without his permission, but there was no turning back.

Harry tilted his head. "What am I doing with who?"

Draco gritted his teeth. "Hermione Granger. Your girlfriend," he spat, venom laced between each syllable.

"What do you mean? We're just dating," the brunet explained, wondering if maybe his confusion was a result of him still being half asleep.

The blond leaned closer to him, not allowing Harry to break their gaze. "_You. Can't. Trust. Her._" He seethed.

Harry watched the cold fury flash through the blond's silver eyes with a mixture of fear and detached curiosity. His words were making no impact on him, but his eyes were doing… something.

"Why shouldn't I trust her?" Harry asked calmly, pushing those confused emotions aside. "Hermione's been an amazing friend to me since first year. An amazing girlfriend since this summer. You, on the other hand… You're a stranger to me. Hermione is flesh and blood. She has a heart, and a conscience. You're just a… a ghostly apparition. Your heart doesn't beat. You don't feel. Why should I trust you instead of her?"

Draco stared, unblinking, into the other's unreadable green eyes. And the more he looked, the more he saw… nothing. The blond clenched his fists. "I can feel," he murmured.

Harry ignored him. "I want to help you, Malfoy. I'm _going_ to help you. But I need you to tell me how. Enough of this cryptic rubbish. Stop telling me who I should or should not spend my time with, and start telling me what I need to know. Tell me what I need to _do_."

Mindlessly, Draco slid even closer to Harry. The boys sat inches apart, never once having taken their gaze off of the other. The blond raised his hands and gripped Harry's shoulders. He stared unabashedly at the other with his piercing grey eyes. Too stunned to move, too nervous as well, Harry remained frozen, hardly daring to breathe. Draco fingers dug into Harry's arms, so harshly that the brunet couldn't help but wince.

Finally, with a stern, yet soft voice, he whispered, "_Remember me_."

And then he was gone.


	3. Chapter 3

**Author's note: Once again, thanks to my reviewers! This story isn't giving me nearly as much trouble with the editing that I thought it would, but I'm struggling to figure out how to end it. I still have a few days to figure it out, but it is rather difficult. Well, thanks for reading this far, hope you continue to enjoy, and don't forget to review!**

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><p>The next few days passed Harry by in a haze of sorts. With mid-year exams approaching at an alarming rate, the common rooms were always filled, until late hours of the night, with nothing but the sound of papers flipping and dreams dying. Occasionally, if you listened closely enough, you could also hear the sounds of Ron's brain cramping.<p>

Yes, even Ronald Weasley had been spending more than a few hours with Hermione and Harry in the common room, trying to fit in any useful information that his brain was capable of absorbing. That wasn't to say that he was very cooperative, however. He vocalized his boredom once every ten minutes until Hermione either kicked him out of the room, or picked up her own books and stormed off to the library. The whole process usually only took around an hour.

Each night, the common rooms would begin to empty slowly around ten. Yawning people would bid everyone goodnight, and drag their feet to their respective dormitories, exhausted. Harry would always stay later than the others. He would kiss his girlfriend goodnight, pat Ron on the back as the redhead half-crawled up the stone steps, and try to follow the flickering flames with his eyes, willing himself to stay awake.

For almost a week, Harry waited, alone in the common room, until one in the morning. But Draco never showed himself. Harry was sure that he was there, maybe even sitting directly next to him. For whatever reason, though, the days passed by without any sign of the ghost.

In a way, Harry was grateful for the exams. Without them as a distraction, Harry had no doubt that he would do little besides fret over Draco's message.

'_Remember me.' _

Harry groaned. What, exactly, was he supposed to be remembering? He was absolutely certain that he had never seen the ghost before. The boy was a stranger to him.

"You okay, mate?" Ron asked quietly, trying not to disturb the others around them. It was only nine, so there was still a fair amount of studying going on.

The brunet had been so absorbed in his thoughts that he had almost forgotten his friend's presence. "Yeah, just getting sick of Herbology," he lied easily.

"You should take a break. Go to bed, you've been studying more than me, Dean, and Seamus combined." Both boys looked up at the mention of their names.

"He's right, Harry," Seamus agreed from where he was sprawled out on the floor, surrounded by his books. "I've been napping for most of this time." He gestured to the pillow that was placed directly on top of his Defense Against the Dark Arts textbook. "And Dean says he doesn't believe in studying."

Ron and Harry both looked curiously to Dean who was reading at a nearby table. He nodded in affirmation and lifted the book in his hands. "This is Quidditch Through the Ages. If we were meant to study so much on our own, why would there be lectures at all?"

The redhead snickered as Harry shook his head in bewilderment. How had Dean even made it to his seventh year?

"You're right, I suppose," Harry finally conceded. Gathering up his books, he said, "I guess I'll just get to bed early tonight." It wasn't as though he was getting much work done anyway. He bid everyone in the common room a good night, and then headed up to the dormitory. It was completely empty since it was so early.

Harry dumped his books onto his desk and changed quickly, falling into bed gratefully. Even though he was completely exhausted, he couldn't immediately fall asleep as he had hoped. He stared up at the ceiling, unwelcome thoughts plaguing his mind, as usual.

"Remember me…" Harry whispered to the empty room. He sighed in frustration. "Who are you, Draco Malfoy?"

He might have imagined it, but out of the corner of his eye, Harry saw a flash of blond. He turned to investigate, but did not see the ghost. He wasn't particularly surprised. By the time he finally drifted into unconsciousness, almost every bed in the room was filled, and the sound of light snoring filled the air.

* * *

><p><em>Harry could have sworn he had heard crying. Actually, it was more like a series of hysterical, heart-wrenching sobs, muffled only by the sound of running water. He glanced up and down the hallway, but it did not appear that anybody else had heard. And if they had, they did not very much care. <em>

_Cautiously, he entered the bathroom, trying to make as little noise as possible. He stopped once inside. He recognized the boy, somehow. On second thought, maybe he didn't…_

_Sobbing like a child, the boy stood gripping the sinks as if he believed he would simply float away if he let go. Harry contemplated leaving, but instead was propelled forward by a sudden swell of inexplicable anger._

"_I know what you did. You cursed her, didn't you?"_

_Only when the boy jumped violently to face him did Harry realize that the disembodied voice was his own. Even looking him straight in the eye, Harry couldn't remember how he knew the tear-streaked student. _

_Spells flying. Dodge, throw, hide. _

"_Sectum Sempra!" _

_Blood._

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><p>Harry awoke violently, nearly jumping out of bed as he did so. He clutched his chest, trying to calm his heart, which was beating far too quickly. He swiped his damp bangs away from his forehead, getting his breathing under control. This dream had just felt so realistic. He hadn't had a nightmare like that one in a long while.<p>

"Harry? You alright?" Ron mumbled sleepily from the next bed over.

"Yeah," Harry whispered shakily. "Just had a nightmare, that's all." By the time he had finished his sentence, Ron was already asleep, breathing heavily.

He bit his lip and laid back down, still trying to calm himself. The brunet remained in his bed for hours, tossing and turning, waiting for the sun to rise. One by one, his friends started to wake up. Still, he stayed in his bed, staring up at the ceiling, haunted by the inexplicable, elusive dream.

Seamus Finnigan wound up being the one to get Harry out of his stupor. "Harry, mate, get up! It's Wednesday. Care of Magical Creatures starts in an hour. Ron and Hermione went down to the Great Hall already. Figured you needed your sleep with all the studying you've been doing."

Harry glanced at Seamus and sighed. "Tell Ron and Hermione I'm not feeling well. I am just going to rest a bit longer."

Seamus grimaced and shook his head emphatically. "I don't think you want me to do that, Harry." The brunet raised his eyebrows, and stated solemnly, "Hermione told me that if you weren't at our Care of Magical Creatures lesson the very moment it began, she would string you up by your toes from the Astronomy tower."

Harry chuckled nervously, completely aware that Hermione never delivered empty threats. He rubbed his eyes, hoping that it would help wake him up. He was worn out, since he had only gotten about three hours of restless sleep, but forced himself out of bed. The brunet stumbled, but quickly righted himself.

"Alright, Seamus. Thanks. I'll just change quickly, then."

The boy nodded. "I'll wait for you downstairs, Harry." And then he was gone.

Harry sighed, retrieved his glasses from their spot on top of his bedside table, and slipped them on. He changed into his school robes slowly, feeling somewhat disoriented from exhaustion. By the time he was done, he had woken himself up slightly, and felt as though he could survive his first lesson of the day. He ran his fingers through his hair, not bothering to take any more time on it, since it always looked the same anyway.

He turned towards the door, ready to leave, when he heard a familiar voice behind him.

"You look truly awful."

Harry spun around quickly, almost losing his balance once more. There was the ghost of Draco Malfoy, sitting casually on Dean Thomas' bed as if he hadn't gone missing for almost half a month, leaving him with just cryptic messages and a blank piece of parchment with only his name on it. He blinked several times, hoping that this wasn't just some prank his overly tired brain was playing on him. Draco didn't disappear.

"Thanks for that," Harry answered slowly, running his fingers through his hair self-consciously.

"Honestly," the blond continued, "How can you leave the dormitories in the morning and walk about the castle all day, content with looking like that?"

Harry groaned. "The same way you manage to remain content with being an arse all the time. I just don't think about it." He knew it was weak and barely made sense, but he wasn't awake enough to think of any wittier retorts. Instead, he settled for asking, "Where have you been?"

Draco shrugged, looking confident as ever. "I've been around. Though I don't see how that is any business of yours, Potter."

"How is it not my business? You ask me to solve your murder, and then disappear for weeks, without leaving me the vaguest clue as to who you really are." Harry was so frustrated he felt he could rip out his hair. How is it possible to have the same argument so many times with the same person? With slight variations, of course, but still, it was enough to drive Harry mad.

"Oh, I see what this is about. You missed me, didn't you, Potter?" Draco smirked, intelligent grey eyes glinting like mad.

"Hardly. Needless to say, I try to spend my days with as little paranormal activity as possible."

"You are aware that you live in a castle among hundreds of witches, wizards, ghosts, house elves, moving staircases, and talking portraits, don't you?"

"Shove off, Malfoy."

"I would, but I fear you wouldn't be able to handle it, should I go missing again."

"For the last time, I did not miss you!" Harry cried. "I need help figuring out your death. I can't do it all on my own."

Draco actually managed to look half surprised at the confession. "But you're the great Harry Potter! You defeated the greatest dark wizard of all time. Surely, you can do anything." His tone was mocking and overly sweet.

The brunet narrowed his eyes. "Right. My name is Harry Potter, not Merlin."

A tense moment of silence passed. Even under Harry's stern glare, Draco's amused smirk never faded.

Harry sighed. "As long as you're here now, we should talk more about your life."

Draco nodded. "What would you like to know?"

Harry rubbed the bridge of his nose, trying to think of safe topics that the other would actually consent to speaking about. He figured it was a good idea to try small talk, and get the blond to open up to him before asking the bigger questions. "Who did you hang out with in school?"

"Mostly Crabbe and Goyle. Both bloody idiots, but they were useful in their own way. Pansy, too. Don't go snooping around Slytherin, though, they won't tell you anything." Draco leaned back on Dean's bed, lounging in much the same way that Harry had found him on his bed nearly two weeks ago.

"Right. Of course not," the brunet replied warily. He was a bit in shock that Malfoy had answered him at all. He wondered vaguely if the boy knew about Crabbe's death. He flashed back briefly to the day of the war. Him, Hermione, and Ron had been able to save Goyle from the fire, but not Crabbe. He frowned, feeling like he was forgetting something. He only lingered on it for a moment longer before continuing.

"What was your favorite class?"

"Potions," the ghost answered immediately. "I was very good at it, too," he added proudly.

"Did you have Snape?" Harry asked disbelievingly.

Draco seemed suddenly solemn. "Yes. He was my godfather."

There was silence as the Gryffindor attempted to take in this new bit of information. Finally, Harry opened his mouth to speak, but got cut off by Seamus calling up the staircase.

"Harry!" he yelled. "You almost ready, mate? Lessons start in thirty minutes now!"

Without taking his eyes off of the blond, Harry called back, "Yeah, Seamus! I'll be down in a minute."

Another moment passed where the room was engulfed in silence once more.

"Well, aren't you going to go to class?" Draco finally asked. "I heard your girlfriend would be intolerable if you dare to be a moment late." He considered this, and then sneered. "Well, more intolerable than usual, anyway."

Harry turned his back on the ghost and walked to the door. Hand on the doorknob, Harry looked over his shoulder to find Draco watching him intently. He suppressed a shiver.

"Will you return tonight? Midnight, by the fireplace?" Harry asked, trying unsuccessfully to sound nonchalant, as if the other's answer had no chance of fazing him.

Draco inspected him for a moment longer, then shook his head. He raised his hand to stop the immediate protest that had almost escaped Harry. "We'll meet again tomorrow night. Merlin knows you need to sleep tonight." The blond eyed Harry's disheveled appearance with unsuppressed distaste.

Harry bit his lip to hold back an irrational bark of laughter, and nodded curtly. He left the room and descended the stairs, dazed, with more than a few questions on his mind.

Seamus was resting in the armchair as he waited, and noticed Harry's presence the moment he stepped into the room. He grinned and stood up. "Finally. You take more time to get ready than Lavender does."

Harry cringed at the thought, but laughed all the same. "Sorry. Got a little sidetracked," he explained. "But let's go now, or in twenty one minutes, Hermione will be plotting my death."

Seamus chuckled and clapped Harry on the shoulder. "Alright, then."

The two chatted amiably as they walked about nothing of any major importance. Seamus told Harry about how he had received a Howler the previous night during dinner, and had immediately grabbed the letter and sprinted from the Great Hall, before his mom could embarrass him in front of the whole castle, as Ron's mom had done in their second year. Harry laughed, and in turn told him about the Potions lesson in which he had been used as a guinea pig for one of Neville's concoctions, and had spent the following night in the Hospital Wing, croaking like a frog.

Harry sometimes got so caught up in his own life that he wound up unintentionally cutting others out. He forgot how easy it was to enjoy a simple conversation with someone other than Ron, Hermione, or Hagrid. Or Draco, though their conversations were very rarely simple. Draco was a teenage ghost who had asked him to not only figure out who murdered him, but also to 'remember him,' whatever that meant, so Harry supposed normal conversations were pretty much out of the question.

As they approached Hagrid's hut, Harry cast a quick Tempus Charm to check the time. 9:59. Harry grinned. "Right on time."

He walked up quietly behind his friends and snuck his arm around Hermione's waist. She jumped, surprised, and then turned to face him, grinning.

"Must you do that every day?" She scolded playfully, throwing her arms around his neck and hugging him tightly. Harry chuckled and hugged her to him, then pulled away and kissed her cheek.

"I must," he insisted. "But you don't mind, because I made it here on time. Right?"

She smiled and looked away. "Just barely. Look, there's Hagrid now."

The enormous man emerged from his house carrying a crate of books. He set it down, and then waved cheerfully to his three favorite students. They waved back, ignoring the pointed, not so subtle whispers of the Slytherins. Something about Hagrid being an old fraud who was incapable of dealing with children, let alone dangerous creatures. Harry's temper flared, but was quickly suppressed when Hagrid began to speak. _Merlin_, he hated sharing this class with the Slytherins.

"Alright class, gather 'round. That's right, quickly now," he urged. "Everyone'll need to take a book, and then find a nice patch o' grass to settle into."

They did as they were told, only moving as slow as molasses. Harry nearly fell asleep standing up while waiting to collect a book. Finally, he grabbed his copy, and made his way to sit by Ron, Hermione, Dean, and Seamus, who were beckoning him over. As if he would sit anywhere else.

He got settled and glanced at the cover of the book. A terrifying creature was drawn elaborately on the front. It had a scorpion's tail, a lion's body, and a human - like head surrounded by a mane of golden fur. Harry shook his head in astonishment. Only a teacher like Hagrid would distribute a book called _The Manticore: The Root of All Evil, Or Misunderstood Jungle Cat?_

As interesting as the beasts were, Harry struggled to stay awake during Hagrid's lengthy lecture. Even when he could keep his eyes open, he could not help but think back to his nightmare from the previous night. It felt so familiar, yet upon awaking, Harry had not been able to recall a single distinguishing feature about the other boy, or even their location. All he could remember was anger, fear, and blood.

Usually, Harry's nightmares were about Voldemort. They were intelligible, and Harry always remembered them when he woke up in the morning. The nightmare he had the previous night did not involve the dark wizard, and his scar was not bothering him when he woke up, but because of the sheer randomness, and eeriness of the dream, it bothered Harry immensely.

Something wasn't right; Harry just didn't know what it was yet.

* * *

><p>"<em>A part of you that will never show; you're the only one that will ever know. Take it back where it all began. Take your time. Would you understand what it's all about? Something is scratching its way out. Something you want to forget about." <em>

_– The Fray, 'Little House'._

* * *

><p><strong>Review away! :) <strong>


	4. Chapter 4

Harry, Hermione, and Ron decided to stay after class with Hagrid to catch up, since it had been a few weeks since they had visited him last. They sat down around his dining table, and waited patiently as he buzzed around his kitchen. The three had attempted to convince him not to cook for them, since they didn't feel like putting in the extra effort required to covertly dump out the meal and pretend that they had enjoyed it, but he insisted. Several minutes later, they had a plate in front of them full with three pies. They each grabbed one, noticing with a hint of dread that the pies felt rock solid. In fact, Harry was quite certain that they were made of rocks.

"So what did you think o' the lesson?" asked Hagrid, taking a bite of his own rock pie, chewing thoughtfully. He swallowed and grimaced. "They need more salt." Harry, Hermione, and Ron exchanged quick, amused glances. They were sure that salt was the least of the problems that they would find with the pie.

After composing herself, Hermione replied, "I thought the lesson was great. The manticores are fascinating creatures, aren't they?"

"More like bloody frightening beasts," Ron commented quietly. Hermione elbowed him sharply in the ribs. A quick yelp, and then Ron fell silent.

"Yeah, Hagrid. Great lesson," Harry agreed, though he couldn't recall one fact about the manticore. Ron nodded.

Hagrid beamed at them. They stayed for a while longer, chatting about their classes and complaining about the behavior of certain Slytherins.

"I don't know what it is," Harry began, "but the Slytherins seem more hostile than usual. I mean, that lot has always been a pain in the arse, but haven't they been worse, lately?"

Hermione, Ron, and Hagrid exchanged quick glances that made Harry shift in his seat uncomfortably.

After a momentary pause, Hermione asked quietly, looking quite concerned, "Have… Have the Slytherins said anything to you recently?"

Harry thought back to the past few weeks. "Not much more than usual. Just the occasional shouted insults. But they seem more sincere lately. More cruel. Do you know what I mean?"

His three friends seemed to let out a collective sigh. Harry grew increasingly more suspicious by the second, while Hermione, Ron, and Hagrid appeared to be more relaxed.

"Forget those awful Slytherins, Harry." Hermione insisted. She nibbled on her pie. Harry noticed that she didn't swallow.

"Yeah, Harry," Ron agreed emphatically. "Those people are all a bunch of bloody lunatics. They are seriously unstable, I tell you."

"I don't know about them being unstable," Hagrid joked, "but there's no doubt that they are all rotten. Spoiled rotten, that's for sure."

Harry eyed them all warily, and then nodded. "Yeah, I know."

They were all tense, though nobody was willing to bring up why. Ron stood up suddenly.

"We should probably get going now. Harry looks like he might pass out at any moment."

The other three followed suit. "Yeah, Hagrid," Hermione agreed, grabbing her hat and pulling it on, making sure to cover her ears. "Thank you for the pies!" she added, hiding her hardly touched food behind her back.

"They were cakes," Hagrid mumbled halfheartedly. Then he looked up and smiled at the three students. "All righ' then, you three. Off to the castle. Visit again soon!"

Harry, Ron, and Hermione walked out slowly, calling to him that they promised to visit more frequently, and strategically hiding their 'cakes' from the giant's line of vision. Harry and his friends walked quickly and silently through the cold wind up to the castle, clutching their cloaks closer to their bodies. Each was privately grateful for the cold, as it gave them something to think about other than the severely awkward atmosphere from Hagrid's.

"This cold is dreadful," Hermione mumbled miserably. She blew hot air into her hands, and rubbed them together, hoping to gain some kind of warmth. Harry grabbed her hand, lacing their fingers together.

"Is that any better?" he asked, smiling.

She smiled back at him. "Yes, much better. Thank you, Harry."

Ron glanced at their joined hands and pretended to gag. "Oh, sure, you two go ahead and share body heat. I will just be over here, freezing to death. Why is Hagid's hut so bloody far away from the castle?"

Harry held out his free hand and asked, as seriously as he could manage, "Would you like to hold my hand, Ron?"

Ron slapped the hand away. "No way, mate. I'm not _that_ cold. Yet."

The three teenagers burst out in laughter, giggling as they crossed the final threshold to the castle.

They were bathed in warmth the moment they stepped inside, and each of them sighed in relief. Hermione, shivering, tried to smooth down her hair with her free hand. The awkwardness between them seemed to have dissipated, and Harry couldn't have been more relieved.

"Well, I think I'll try to get a bit of sleep," Harry decided. "Are you guys going to return to the common room right now?"

Hermione and Ron glanced at each other. Hermione shook her head. "No, I need to go to the library."

"What a surprise. Hermione is going to the library."

"You know, Ronald, mid-year exams are next week, you should probably be doing a bit more studying yourself. You must be more diligent! Like how Harry has been lately," Hermione scolded Ron and praised her boyfriend at the same time.

Ron scowled.

Harry yawned.

"Fine then," Hermione huffed. "You two do whatever you would like to. I'm off to the library." She kissed Harry quickly on the cheek and was gone.

The redhead turned to his best friend. "I think I will go get some food from the Great Hall. I skipped breakfast this morning, and Hagrid's so-called 'cake' only made me hungrier. Want me to pick something up for you? I know you missed breakfast, too."

Harry's stomach growled in response. He laughed and then answered, "I think that would be a yes. Thanks, mate."

Ron nodded. "Get some sleep, Harry. You look like death. And remember that we have Divination this afternoon. If you oversleep and leave me to deal with mad Professor Trelawney by myself, I will strangle you."

The brunet pushed his hair out of his eyes and snorted. "Will do," he promised.

Ron chuckled, taking one last look at his bedraggled friend, and left for the Great Hall, where the house elves made sure there was some food on the tables even between meals.

Harry sighed and stared up at the treacherous staircase. Why did the only passageway to the Gryffindor tower have to lie on the eleventh floor? He shook his head and started up the stairs. His eyelids seemed to get heavier with every step he took, making it near impossible to concentrate on trick stairs and the people surrounding him.

He trekked blindly toward the seventh floor, each step bringing him closer to his nice, comfortable bed. He tried to focus instead on the rhythm of his heavy footsteps landing on the marble stairs.

_Step. Step. Step. Step. Step. Step. Step. Woosh._

Harry's eyes flew open. Several people around him screamed. In his stupor, Harry had not noticed when the staircase he was about to disembark from began to move. He was pitched forward, arms swinging madly, trying to find something to grab onto to break his fall. But there was nothing. Only air, and the marble floor dozens of feet below him. Harry squeezed his eyes shut tight, and prepared himself for the fall.

The fall, however, never happened. At the last possible moment, someone had gripped the back of his robes and pulled him violently back onto the staircase. He tripped backwards but managed to right himself on the railing. He gripped the railing as the stairs finally stopped moving, and tried to calm his erratic breathing. Harry turned suddenly to face his rescuer. Everyone had already started walking past him to the landing, whispering frantically about what had just happened, besides Luna Lovegood.

The Ravenclaw stared at Harry in that dreamy, knowing way that she always did. "That was quite the close call, Harry," she observed.

"Yes, I suppose it was," Harry agreed hesitantly. "Luna, was that you? Did you just save me from falling?"

The blond girl looked thoughtful for a moment, then shook her head. "No, Harry, I didn't."

Harry blinked stupidly at her. "So who did?"

"Nobody did," she told him. "You were about to fall, and then you simply stopped. You stumbled backwards at the last moment. It was actually kind of strange. But don't get me wrong, it was also very impressive. And be careful, Harry. The stairs are moving again. I doubt you would be so lucky should you fall a second time."

"Nobody saved me?" Harry echoed, confused. He shook his head. It just didn't make any sense. He sighed and turned his head. The stairs were indeed moving, and Harry made sure they were firmly attached to the tenth floor landing before taking his next step onto the platform. Luna followed soon after.

"You're sure nobody pulled me back?" Harry asked once more.

Luna shook her head. "Yes, I am quite sure nobody thought quickly enough to grab you. It all happened so fast, you know?" Suddenly, the blond threw her arms around Harry's neck, and Harry, startled, took a moment longer to place his hands on her back to return the brief hug. "I'm sorry I didn't help you, Harry. You have done so much to help me over the years. I would have liked to return the favor." Luna smiled sadly, looking as lucid as Harry could every remember seeing her.

Harry shook his head fervently. "No, Luna, don't think like that. You have helped me so much as well, by just being my friend. And by alerting me to the presence of the dangerous nargles on my scalp, of course."

The Ravenclaw girl beamed at him and hugged him once more. "I am so glad to hear you feel that way, Harry." She was about to exit to the tenth floor passageways when she looked over her shoulder and said, "You know, the amount of nargles infesting your hair has been increasing lately. You should be careful."

The brunet boy stared at her, and then nodded slowly. "Sure, Luna. I'll be careful."

She smiled and departed. Luna always kept Harry on his toes. One moment she's completely sane, and the next moment, she's talking about infestations of nargles. There was no telling what that girl was thinking.

He watched her leave for a few seconds longer, and then continued on his way to the Gryffindor common rooms. Still not completely awake but much more alert, Harry made it there without any more embarrassing incidents. The moment he had walked in, he was bombarded with hugs and shouts and questions. From what he could gather, Parvati Patil had witnessed the scene on the staircase, and then rushed back to the common room to inform everybody of what happened. Everyone wanted his side of the story, but he was so exhausted that he barely knew what had happened himself.

He sighed and pushed his way through the herd of people, yelling that he just wanted to rest for a bit, and climbing the stone steps to the dormitory. He knew he only had an hour and a half to nap, since he had to go to his Divination lesson later, but he couldn't bring himself to care. He fell facedown onto his bed, and was asleep no more than two minutes later.

Harry awoke with a jolt. His internal alarm clock was telling him something was very wrong. He cast a Tempus Charm. Two twenty-six_. _Harry jumped out of bed. He had four minutes to get to his Divination lesson, or Ron would murder him with his bare hands.

He sprinted through the castle, grateful that he fell asleep wearing his shoes and robes. He ran a hand through his hair and swiped his tongue along the front of his teeth, grimacing. He would have to remember not to breathe directly on anybody until he found the time to brush his teeth. The distance between the Gryffindor common rooms and the Divination classroom had always been a burden, but it had never seemed as far as it did at that very moment. He climbed stairs two at a time, cautious not to fall into a trick stair, and still wary of the movement of the staircases.

As he sprinted through the final hallway that led to the spiral staircase of the Divination room, Peeves the Poltergeist screeched, "Run, Potter, run!" It was almost enough to startle him into running straight into the heavy, closed wooden door. He stopped abruptly, just in time to save himself some humiliation, and pulled open the door. Harry looked up at the staircase that spiraled upwards for ages with trepidation. He stopped for a few moments to catch his breath and rest his legs. He was embarrassingly tired from the unexpected exercise he was getting. He took one last deep breath, and started up the stairs. He checked the time as he ran. It was two thirty-two. Damn.

Finally he reached the top platform. He stood outside of it and caught his breath for another minute, not wanting to appear too winded from being late. He walked inside, four minutes late.

"Ah, it was just as I foresaw. Nice of you to join us. Have a seat Mr. Potter," Trelawney said, without looking up at him.

"Sorry professor," Harry mumbled, heading to where he usually sat with Ron. The redhead was glaring up at him, clearly thinking, _'You are so lucky. If you were one minute later, I would have murdered you.'_

Ron watched him as he approached. "You are so lucky," he started, and Harry grinned. "If you were one minute later, I would have murdered you."

Harry snickered quietly, and then glanced at the crystal ball placed in front of him. Their assignment that week was to write down every major event that would be occurring in their lives over the course of the month. Since neither Ron nor Harry had ever been able to see anything in their crystal balls other than the swirling mist, they decided it would be far easier to decide their own fates. So far, Harry was going to suffer from a terrible bruise on his upper left thigh (he was pretty sure he could get Trelawney fired if she insisted on checking that), make a major discovery that would revolutionize the medical world, but cause the extinction of fire crabs, and receive a concussion after falling from his broomstick. Ron was going to have a nasty trick played on him by one of his close friends (Harry figured he could actually make that false prediction a reality), fall in love only to find out that the girl has a significant other, and die in a mysterious skiing accident. Trelawney had cried when she had seen their lists, overwhelmed by the clarity of the 'Sight' that she was sure the boys possessed.

"So I heard you almost fell off a moving staircase earlier," Ron whispered, leaning into his friend's personal space.

Harry rolled his eyes. "Parvati told you, I'm assuming?" he whispered back.

Ron shook his head. "No, it was Hermione. I think she heard it from Padma Patil, the Ravenclaw, who heard it from her twin sister Parvati Patil. Or some rubbish like that."

Harry arched an eyebrow and asked, "Do the kids in this school really have nothing better to talk about than me almost, but not even, tripping?"

"Well, first off, you are Harry Potter. News about you travels faster than anyone else in the entire wizarding world. And second, you didn't just almost trip. You almost tripped off of a tenth floor staircase!" Ron exclaimed in an excited, hushed tone. "A fall like that could have hurt you pretty badly, if not killed you!"

The brunet sighed. "Yeah, yeah." He was struck with an interesting thought: it would have been pretty pathetic had he died. The only person in the world known to have lived through the Killing Curse (he had lived through it twice, even), the boy who battled and defeated Voldemort, dead because he was tired and tripped off of a staircase. Even in his head it sounded like a joke. He chuckled, adding 'death by staircase' to his list of future mishaps.

Ron stared at him for a few moments. "Well, I'm glad you're alright mate." He smiled and scribbled down a few words in his notebook.

Harry smiled back. He wondered if he should talk to Ron about the mysterious person who saved him. Most likely though, Ron would think him to be crazy, like Luna had. He decided to wait until Hermione was with them to tell him. Maybe they could give him an explanation that would appease his gnawing curiosity.

Divinations was very difficult for the two boys when they first began the class, but as time passed, they discovered that it was frighteningly easy to fake seeing the future. They supposed that made sense, since Professor Trelawney still had her job. Harry and Ron, therefore, didn't have to do much work during the hour and a half of class. They chatted pleasantly and convinced Neville that they saw in their crystal balls that Trevor was hiding in Professor McGonagall's undergarments draw, and finished plotting out their own demises.

"You know," Ron pointed out, "Your list says that you are going to die twice this month."

Harry re-read his list and realized Ron was right. He shrugged. "That's fine. She'll like it better if I die twice, anyway." Ron agreed, and then added another death to his own paper, this one by way of being stung by a rabid manticore let loose within the boys' dormitory.

Though the class itself wasn't much work, the boys were still relieved when time was up, and they were able to escape the gaze of the large, watery eyes of the Professor. They left the room swiftly.

Harry and Ron walked down the spiraling staircase just in front of the rest of their class, Ron chatting animatedly about… something. Harry tried to catch up with the one-sided conversation.

"- he's evil, that man is. I have no idea how I'm going to survive this year with him as my professor. I mean, I have to see him every other day for two hours. If he keeps giving me detentions for getting questions wrong, then I'll have to hex him. I'll have no choice. I mean, isn't it a teacher's job to just correct a student when they don't know an answer?" Ron was fuming. Harry nodded sympathetically, hoping that it was the appropriate response for his friend's situation. Ron barely seemed to notice Harry's presence anyway, so the brunet doubted his answer mattered very much.

As they reached the landing, Harry asked, "So where are you headed?"

Ron stared at him for a moment. "I just told you, mate. I have detention with Barron. Were you even listening to me?"

Harry bit his tongue. Oops. He forced a laugh. "Of course I was. You want to hex him," Harry added, skillfully showing off the only bit of the conversation that he caught. "It just slipped my mind for a moment." Ron nodded, but still looked doubtful. "Have you ever considered just studying more for Potions so you won't get questions wrong?"

The redhead looked scandalized. "Are you actually defending the git?"

"Of course not, Ron," Harry responded quickly. "It was just a suggestion. Well, I think I am going to go to the library. Get some studying done so I won't have to stay up so late tonight."

Ron looked at him fearfully. "Hermione? Why do you look just like Harry?" he asked mockingly. Harry laughed and pushed him playfully.

"Shove off, Ron. Hermione is right. You really should start studying more. Midterms are always tough."

"I know, I know," the redhead sighed. "Maybe I'll join you tomorrow at the library, if you plan on going again. Or if not, I could go with Hermione. Nothing could stop that girl from going to the library every day. Nothing, I tell you."

The two shared a laugh, and then walked in a comfortable silence until it was time for them to part ways. Harry waved and watched Ron leave for his detention, head hung low, and then entered the library.

A wave of discomfort washed over him the moment he crossed its threshold. Merlin, how he hated this place. Walking past the endless shelves of books, Harry half expected to see Hermione there, hunched over at a table, poring over some book that was written in the twelfth century. However, she was not there. He figured she was at her Arithmancy lesson. He was relieved. He would not have been able to do what he came to do if she had been with him. In order to figure out the mystery that was Draco Malfoy, Harry figure he would have to do a bit of snooping around for a while.

Now that he was in the library, though, ready to begin his search and figure out how the ghost had died, he had no idea where to begin. The library was like a labyrinth: it made it impossible to find what you were looking for. And it was twice as difficult if you didn't know what you were looking for in the first place. Draco had told him next to nothing about himself. Harry had almost no significant information to work with.

He pulled out dozens of books that he thought might detail the murder that had taken place at the school. Page by excruciatingly boring page, Harry realized that the murder had gone undocumented. He didn't understand. Did nobody know about Draco's murder? How did he just disappear from the school without drawing any attention? It wasn't written about in any books about Hogwarts history, and though he had yet to defy the ghost's wishes and ask his friends, he knew they would have been talking about it had they been aware of a murder that had taken place.

Worn out after only an hour and a half of research, Harry halfheartedly rifled through the endless books on a nearby shelf. Most of them were very boring, very old, and covered in dust from disuse.

Finally, Harry stumbled upon a book that might be of use to him. He pulled it off the shelf, and was surprised to find it in a relatively new condition, compared to the dusty, obviously ignored books beside it. He re-read the title. _Infamous Witches and Warlocks: The New, the Old, and the Ancient. _While he doubted that he would be concerned with old or ancient witches and warlocks, maybe Malfoy had some connection to the new. It was a long shot, but at that point, Harry didn't really hold out much hope of finding the answers anywhere else. He hauled the heavy book over to a table, and began to shuffle through the ten page table of contents.

He scanned quickly, using his finger to follow along with the tiny text. He stopped suddenly, eyes widening. _Malfoy, Lucius – Page one hundred and seventy six (see also: Malfoy, Narcissa – Page one hundred and eighty one)._

Harry's heart skipped a beat when he read the last two names. Malfoy. He blinked a couple times, quite convinced that the names were conjured up by his overly hopeful mind, or his tired, bleary eyes. But the names remained dutifully written on the page. He was only slightly disappointed to realize that Draco's name wasn't written alongside theirs. Perhaps it was a good thing though, since the book was devoted to _infamous_ witches and warlocks. Harry rushed to get to the correct page. However, it never takes such a long time to find a certain page until you're in a rush to do so. It took Harry quite a while to find and settle on page one hundred and seventy two.

If Harry had had any qualms about whether or not these Malfoys were actually related to Draco, seeing their pictures in the book erased every one of them. The man staring up at Harry from page one hundred and seventy six was, without a doubt, Draco's father. The ghost was the spitting image of the man, though obviously many years younger. Lucius Malfoy was portrayed sitting in a chair, though he adjusted himself every so often. He reached up once in a while to brush long blond strands of hair from his face. It fell past his shoulders, tumbling halfway down the man's back. He had the same pale-as-paper complexion that his son had, and the same pointed face and cold grey eyes. There were only two striking differences that Harry could immediately notice. First, Harry could tell that the man was well-built. He was broad and muscular, yet still maintained his elegance. While Draco had definitely attained that same level of gracefulness, perhaps even more than his father, his muscularity was more subtle, and he was much thinner. Also, Draco's father had pronounced frown lines surrounding his mouth. Even on the page, Lucius' mouth was thin, and pulled down at the corners. Harry could hardly remember what Draco looked like without that playful smirk that he always wore. He was grateful for it, though. While the ghost could be a serious pain in the arse, it was probably possible to have an enjoyable conversation with him. His father did not look like a pleasant man, though.

Harry finally tore his gaze from the image and began to read the text on following pages. He used pieces of the scroll that he hadn't used from Divination to take brief notes. Lucius was born in 1954, and was still living. His father's name was Abraxus Malfoy. He was a Slytherin, and later became a prefect. Lucius married Narcissa Black, and they had a son. The book didn't mention Draco by name, but Harry knew it couldn't have been anyone else. Harry could taste bile when he read that Lucius became a prominent Death Eater, and presumably, still was one. He was one of Lord Voldemort's most trusted servants. He escaped arrest after Voldemort's downfall only by claiming to have been under the Imperius Curse, though it was impossible to prove. Recently though, he had been put away in the wizarding prison in Azkaban. The book described him as ruthless, selfish, and concerned with social standing, though he had proven on several occasions that the security of his family meant a great deal to him. Harry only skimmed the rest of the text, most of it a dry reading of all of the people who Lucius had put under the Imperius Curse, and also those who he had otherwise wronged.

Even though it turned out that Draco's dad was an all around bad person that Harry most likely had faced off against at some point, he couldn't help but feel bad for the Malfoys. He couldn't even begin to fathom how terrible it must feel to lose your only son at the too young age of seventeen. He knew that if the roles had been reversed, and he had died that fateful night rather than his parents, James and Lily would have been inconsolably distraught at the loss of their baby boy. He shook his head, trying to clear his mind of those types of thoughts, and returned to the book.

Several pages after Lucius was Narcissa Malfoy, his wife. Harry held out a small bit of hope that she wasn't as wicked as her husband, but since she had also made it into the book of the most infamous witches, it didn't seem likely. In the picture, Narcissa stood by a mirror, examining herself and adjusting her hair and clothing often. She was tiny, definitely smaller than her seventeen year old son by at least a couple of inches. Draco must have gotten his slender figure from his mother. She was nice looking, though eerily similar to Lucius. She had the same sickly pale complexion, but her eyes were more blue than grey. Narcissa looked slightly displeased, as though she smelled something foul. She was described in the book as being obsessed with blood purity and appearances. Draco's mother never took on the Dark Mark. What had landed her on the list of the most infamous witches had more to do with her husband than anything else. Though she had strong ties with many of the Death Eaters and the Dark Lord himself, she never committed any evil deeds directly under him. Her wrongdoings could all be traces back to an intense devotion to and a passionate love of her family. Everything that she did, she did in the best interest of her husband and son. Narcissa died the previous summer. The reasons were still under speculation.

A cold pit of sorrow settled itself in Harry's stomach. Sadness for the broken family. A father, who was locked away in Azkaban, who either wasn't aware of the death of his family, or who was currently suffering unbearable grief. A loving mother, who did nothing wrong but associate herself with the wrong people, dead. Maybe she died of a broken heart, with her husband in wizarding prison, and her only son dead. And finally, Draco. A son. A ghost. A seventeen year old boy who was mature for his age, but still far too young to die. A boy who had his parents taken away from him. A boy who needed Harry to find out who killed him.

For a moment, Harry was immobilized by a mixture of sadness and fury. How could anyone kill a boy like Draco? Draco was just a kid who had already been through far too much. As far as Harry could tell, the boy had done nothing that was worthy of death. It just wasn't fair. Harry was overwhelmed by a sudden, passionate conviction: He would find out who killed Draco. And if there was a way for him to prove it, then would put that person in Azkaban.

He slammed the book shut, and sat for a few minutes more to calm himself down and process all of this new information, trying to figure out if any of it could be related to the murder. He checked the time, and did a double-take. He couldn't believe that he had been in the library for so long. Even Hermione would be impressed by the amount of time he committed himself to a task. Of course, it wasn't the task that she thought it was, but Harry still considered it an accomplishment. He put the book away, finding that it seemed to be much heavier now than it had been earlier, and collected the copious amount of notes that he had ended up taking. He rubbed his eyes and yawned before grabbing his quill and ink and heading back to the common rooms for some sleep.

Gone were the days where Harry Potter could be awake for days on end without feeling its effects. After dodging questions from his friends for about half an hour, he headed straight to bed, only stopping to eat the food that Ron had brought back for him from dinner. Harry was sleeping like the dead by ten.


	5. Chapter 5

**So I'm pretty disappointed with the lack of response to my last chapter, but I don't really have time to worry about it if I want to finish this by the time I go back to school. Hope you like this chapter, and don't forget to leave a review! They really help with my motivation. Thanks :]**

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><p>"<em>I guess there's got to be a break in the monotony, but Jesus, when it rains, how it pours. Just when you think you're in control, just when you think you've got a hold, just when you get on a roll. Here it goes again. I should have known, but here it goes again." – OK Go, 'Here It Goes Again'.<em>

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><p>The next day, Harry woke up feeling rested and energetic for the first time in weeks. He had finally made up for all of the sleep that he had missed out on during his one in the morning study sessions, where very little studying actually got done. On those nights, he mostly just worried a lot. He was looking forward to speaking to Draco that night, as well. With all the new information he had gathered about the Malfoy family, he figured they might actually make some progress. The day was a carefree one, rather uneventful, but filled with many laughs between him and his friends.<p>

It wasn't until around 9 o' clock at night that he remembered he had meant to discuss what had happened on the staircase with Hermione and Ron. They were in the common room, Harry and Hermione cuddled together on the long, plush couch, and Ron almost asleep on the nearby armchair. There were still a few people around, but Harry figured if he was going to talk to them about it, that this was his only chance. He took his arm from around Hermione's shoulder and gripped his knees firmly with both hands.

"Guys," he whispered importantly, "I have to talk to you about something."

Hermione leaned forward instantly, but it took Ron a moment more to respond, since he had been practically asleep. Quickly, though, Harry had the full attention of both of his friends.

"Well, I guess it's not that important," Harry started off, easing their minds. Merlin knew that far too many times, he had started off a conversation a similar way, and followed it up with crucial information or a deadly story. This one seemed rather dull in comparison, but it was going to continue to bother him until he talked it out. Ron and Hermione relaxed a bit, but continued to listen intently. "But it is rather odd. So I know you have both heard about the incident on the staircase from yesterday. What have people been saying happened?"

Ron and Hermione glanced at each other, and then Hermione answered, "Well, there have been a lot of different stories. One of the more extreme ones is that you actually did fall, and you're now just a ghost, walking around without knowing that you're actually dead."

Harry chuckled. "That explains some of the pitying looks I received today. What else is there? Sorry, you know I usually wouldn't ask you about this kind of stuff, but this time it's sort of important."

Hermione smiled. "Don't apologize, Harry. It's fine. The most logical story that I've heard so far is that you were about to fall forward, but you grabbed the railing just in time to save yourself." She hesitated for a moment before placing her hand on his. "Sorry that I didn't say so earlier, but I am really glad that you're okay, Harry."

He turned his hand over and laced their fingers together, smiling softly at his girlfriend. She could be really sweet sometimes, when she wasn't obsessing over her grades or yelling at him. This was one of the moments Harry could really appreciate having her in his life. "Thank you, Hermione." After another brief moment, he focused on the rest of what she had been saying. "So nobody knows what actually happened," he mumbled mostly to himself.

The redhead leaned even further forward and asked, "So, wait, what did happen then?"

Harry sighed and shook his head. "I honestly don't know. I was really tired, and hadn't noticed that the stairs had begun to move. I almost walked right off the edge of the staircase. In fact, I did walk right off of the staircase. I was falling forward, and had pretty much given up trying to right myself, since I wasn't within reach of anything but air. But then, I felt someone grab me, and pull me back onto the stairs. I felt the tug on my robes. I was so sure that someone had saved me. When I turned around, though, the only person still there was Luna. We walked up the stairs, and I asked her if she had saved me. She told me that she hadn't. She told me that nobody had. But… How is that possible?"

There was a brief silence before Ron answered quietly, "Are you absolutely sure that you felt someone there? It wasn't just gravity or dumb luck or even Luna that landed you back on the stairs?"

"No, I know that somebody helped me," Harry answered confidently. "Gravity was definitely sending me to the ground ten stories away, not back to the stairs. I have never had dumb luck on my side before, so I see no reason why this would be any different. And even though I wondered about Luna myself for a few moments, I'm not able to convince myself that Luna would be strong enough to be able to haul me back up."

"That's true," Hermione agreed. "There is no way Luna could do that by herself." She chewed on her lip for a moment. "I don't know what to say, Harry. There are a lot of things that go on in this castle that we don't know about. Some things that we can't even begin to understand." She was going to stop there, but when she heard Harry's sigh, she knew that this was going to eat at him until he figured it out, so she continued. "Maybe someone was there, Harry. Someone that we just can't see."

"Someone that we can't see." Harry echoed. Obviously he had considered that it was Draco who helped him earlier, but he had tried not to dwell on that theory. Now, it seemed to be the only logical explanation.

"Don't think I'm crazy, Harry. It could have been a ghost. There must be so many in this castle that we don't know about. It could very well have been any one of them." Hermione informed him, misinterpreting his reluctant tone as disbelief.

Ron snorted. "Ghosts. That's your theory? Ghosts? I don't reckon you remember, Hermione, but ghosts can't touch us. And we can see them, too! Like Nearly Headless Nick."

"Don't be so naïve, Ronald," Hermione berated. "Not all ghosts are like Sir Nicholas."

Harry would have supported his girlfriend, but just a few short weeks ago, he had been under the same illusion as Ron was. They had both stereotyped ghosts based only on what they knew of the four or five ghosts that they knew. To diffuse the situation, though, Harry interrupted, "Well, I guess my near fall was just another mystery within this castle. Nothing ever really makes sense here, does it?"

Ron and Hermione both chuckled and nodded their agreement.

"You can say that again, mate. Now, I'm just going to head up to bed. I'm tired, and I am quite sure that you two will find some other way to entertain yourselves." Ron winked playfully, but Harry could have sworn he heard a hint of animosity behind the words. He shrugged it off. He must have been imagining it.

Harry forced a laugh and nodded. "Alright, Ron. Goodnight."

"Goodnight, Ron!" Hermione called.

With one last glance and smile, Ron left to go to sleep, leaving Hermione and Harry alone. The brunet glanced around the room, confirming that they were the last two left in the common room.

The bushy haired girl smiled shyly at her boyfriend. "Well, this is sort of odd. We really don't get much time alone to ourselves, do we?"

Harry shook his head. "No, we really don't."

"So, what do you want to do?" Hermione asked, biting her lip in anticipation. Harry thought it was quite obvious what she was interested in doing, and he wasn't going to object.

"I could think of a few things," Harry said, angling himself toward her, and placing a hand gently her waist.

"Oh?" Hermione stared into the boy's striking green eyes. "Like what?"

Harry leaned forward and stroked her cheek with his free hand. "Like this." He closed the gap between the two, and let his eyelids slide shut as their lips met. Hermione sighed softly as he covered her face and neck in quick, soft kisses. There was no denying that the two had good chemistry. They readjusted themselves on the couch almost automatically. Harry lay on the couch with his girlfriend lying on top of him, her arms wrapped around his neck and his arms circling her waist. Their soft kisses quickly turned into something else entirely. Their lips crashed together, tongues coming out to meet and intertwine in a heated moment. Harry's hands no longer remained around her waist, but rather were roaming up and down her back. His left hand slid upward to the back of her neck, pulling them even closer to each other and gluing them together. His right hand moved further downward, into previously unexplored territory. He rested it for a moment directly on the back of her skirt before squeezing lightly and moving to her uncovered thighs. She moaned lightly before placing her hands on his chest and pushing herself off of him. He sat up.

"Did I do something wrong?" he asked.

Hermione shook her head. "No, definitely not. I just wanted to stop myself while I still could. It's getting late, and I don't want to do anything I might regret in the morning." She paused nervously. "You don't mind, do you, Harry?"

Harry stood and hugged his girlfriend. "Not at all, love. I'm glad you did that."

She smiled, relieved. Her boyfriend was always so patient and understanding. It seemed unreal at times. "I'm going to go to sleep now. I'll see you in the morning, Harry. Goodnight." She kissed him sweetly before heading for the girls' dorms.

"Goodnight, 'Mione."

When Hermione was out of sight, Harry sighed and checked the time. It was only 10 o'clock, so he still had a few hours to kill before meeting up with Draco. He took out his books and began to study, but had fallen asleep before he had even realized that he was tired.

He awoke with a start, somehow already knowing that he was late. He checked the time. It was twelve forty two, forty two minutes later than the time that he and Draco had agreed upon. Looking around frantically, he found that he was the only one in the common room. He sighed, his heart thumping painfully from disappointment. He had missed out on his opportunity to talk to the ghost about all of the things that he had finally discovered, and all of the questions that he was dying to ask. Who knew when Draco would choose to reveal himself again? He had gone almost half a month without making contact prior to yesterday. It could be another month or two before he showed up again. Sitting alone in the dark room, Harry wallowed in his own frustration.

"Worn out from all of that snogging, I suppose."

Harry jerked his head toward the source of the noise. There stood the ghost of Draco Malfoy, not five feet away from him. He sat on the armchair that had once been occupied by Ron, looking unusually serious.

"Draco!" Harry swore silently at how pleased he sounded. "I didn't mean to keep you waiting. I'm sorry."

"Though I'm sure I could have done more exciting things with my time than sitting here, wondering if I should bother waiting until you woke up, I must remind you that an hour doesn't seem like a very long time to wait. I do have an infinite amount of time to waste."

The brunet nodded, relieved, and then froze. "Wait a minute. Snogging? You were _watching_ me and Hermione?"

Draco grimaced. "Well, I wouldn't say _watching_. Was I in the vicinity? Yes. However, I did make it a point to try and avoid watching at all costs."

"That is completely and totally disgusting! It's just plain wrong! I thought we were alone. Why would you even stay here, you git?" Harry whispered violently. He was outraged, but still conscious of the fact that his classmates were sleeping just upstairs.

"It wasn't exactly my choice, Potter," Draco snapped.

Harry jumped from the couch. "What do you mean it wasn't your choice? You mean that you had to stay and invade my privacy? There's some mysterious force that _made_ you stay in the room?

The blond nodded solemnly. "Yes. That's exactly what I mean."

Harry froze. "W-what?"

"I wasn't planning on telling you this," Draco told him, shaking his head. "You won't like it. I know that I don't."

"Tell me," Harry insisted.

Draco nodded. "Fine… Do you happen to remember, the first day that I made contact with you, I made a joke about how I would haunt you if you refused to help me?"

The brunet clenched his jaw, not liking where this conversation was heading, and unwilling to admit that he remembered every single word that was said during their first encounter. "Yes, I remember."

"Well, it wasn't exactly a joke. Until you figure this all out, I'm sort of… bound to you. I don't have to be next to you at all times, but I do have to be somewhere nearby. I just can't leave. There really is something that stops me from giving you your privacy. So for the time being, Potter, you are stuck with me," Draco explained, trying not to freak Harry out, but knowing that he wasn't even close to succeeding.

After a moment of gaping openly at the other, Harry shook his head and gripped his hair in both hands. "This is all so frustrating! I never asked for any of this. I have so much stress on me already, but for some reason, I also have to worry myself about you, the son of Voldemort's right-hand man. I don't even get time to myself. Even when I think I'm alone, you're going to be there! It's just not fair!" Harry was so upset that he was almost shouting.

Draco almost unnoticeably flinched away from the other boy, and Harry knew that he had gone too far. Harry bit his lip and calmed down, but before he could apologize, Draco was speaking. "I don't want you to think that this is a walk in the park for me, either, Potter. It sucks. It sucks to be _dead_. It sucks that even when you do try to get to know me, it's only so that in the end, you can get rid of me. And it _really _sucks that I basically have to follow you around, and wait for you to fit me into your schedule. I'm sorry to intrude on your hectic life, and take you away from your precious girlfriend and the ginger, but I assure you that once you figure this all out, I'll be gone for good. You won't ever see me again." He clenched his jaw and took a deep breath, nostrils flaring. "But for now, there is absolutely nothing we can do about the situation, so you might as well just deal with it, Golden Boy." He looked away, and Harry guessed that he probably had said more than he had really intended to.

The resounding silence that followed Draco's speech was so tense that it was almost painful. Harry opened and shut his mouth so many times that he felt like a fish.

Finally, Draco shook his head. "Maybe we should continue this some other time. Get some sleep, Potter." He stood, and in the blink of an eye, had disappeared.

Harry reached out an arm and tried to grab at the ghost that he knew was still standing there, but of course, he was met with nothing but an empty space.

"Damn it, Malfoy, no way. You come back right now. We are not even close to finished talking." Harry whispered furiously. A few moments passed with no sign of the blond, and Harry continued, "Do not pretend you aren't here, Malfoy. You already told me your secret. There is no way that you can't hear me right now."

The blond reappeared, sitting in the armchair as if he had never left in the first place. "I knew I shouldn't have told you," he was muttering.

Harry swallowed thickly and sat down. "So, I should apologize."

"I would rather you didn't," Draco told him.

"I'm going to anyway. Live with it."

"I would if I could." The blond smirked

Harry glared and continued, "I have to learn to be more sensitive to what you're feeling if this is going to work. I understand now that this can't be easy for you, either, having your whole schedule, your whole existence, really, revolving around what I have planned for the day. I'm sorry that I suggested otherwise. And I'm really, r_eally_ sorry that I made it sound like you were a burden. This was a very unexpected situation of course, and it does put a lot more on my plate, but I can handle it. I actually do enjoy your company at times, Malfoy," Harry admitted cautiously. "I was really looking forward to speaking with you tonight, and I almost ruined it. I am going to figure out who killed you, but not because I want you out of my life." He paused, trying to figure out exactly how to phrase what he wanted to say. "I honestly think that I'm going to feel your absence when you are gone for good. But I'm going help you because I know that's what you want."

Draco stared absently at him, as though he had not heard a single word that Harry had just said. He blinked slowly and then smirked. "Apology accepted. Now, can we stop with all the touchy emotional stuff? It makes me want to die. Again."

Harry let out a quick bark of laughter, half from relief. "Alright, then. Let's talk about something more relevant to our cause. Like what I found out in the library." It was a sobering topic that Harry was not too keen on starting on right away, but it was extremely important.

"About my parents," Draco said, smirk slipping only slightly.

"Yes. About your parents. They were Death Eaters." Harry figured pointing out the obvious and seeing what information Draco decided to give him was a safe plan.

The ghost shook his head. "No, my mother was not a Death Eater. It was just my father."

Harry nodded. "Yeah, your father. He was Voldemort's main servant, wasn't he?"

"He was very important," Draco told him, not really knowing why he was disclosing information about his parents. "My father never thought it was wrong, what he was doing. He always told me that everything he did would help to keep me safe. I never questioned him, but I never really understood it until recently, either."

"So," Harry started, nervous that Draco would take badly to his next question. He was not particularly excited to find out the answer either. "Were you a Death Eater, too?"

Draco winced and let out a slow breath. There was no sense in hiding it, since he was expecting Harry to figure everything out eventually. He pushed up his left sleeve and looked away as he displayed his forearm to Harry. The Dark Mark stood out clearly against his pale skin. Harry barely managed to contain his moan of disgust.

He sighed. "So, were you killed by Voldemort?"

The ghost let out a clipped laugh. "No, not Voldemort."

"It wasn't another Death Eater?" Harry asked.

"No, it wasn't a Death Eater."

Harry leaned back against the couch. Okay, so he could safely say that Draco was probably killed by someone who was against Voldemort. Someone who knew that he was one of his servants. He shrugged. That was helpful.

"Just so you know, I have always regretted it."

Harry glanced at Draco. "What do you mean?"

"I mean that I never wanted to take the Dark Mark," Draco confessed, captivating Harry with his intense silver eyes. "Voldemort made me. He grabbed my arm, put his wand to my skin, and made the mark himself."

"Why would he do that?" Harry asked curiously. As far as he knew, Voldemort never forced his followers to take the Mark. They offered their services, and then he used them. But if they didn't go to him and declare their allegiance, Harry couldn't see why Voldemort would seek out a seventeen year old boy and make him a Death Eater.

Draco groaned. "This is where it gets worse, Potter, but please don't run. Not that it would get you very far away from me, but it would be a lot easier to explain this to you if you remained sitting just where you are."

Harry braced himself for the upcoming admission, and answered uncertainly, "I'll do my best not to run."

"Alright. Voldemort had a mission for me. One that he said only I could complete successfully."

"What mission?" Harry asked impatiently.

"I was getting there," Draco snapped. He sunk further into the armchair before admitting quietly, "Voldemort ordered me to kill Dumbledore."

Harry's jaw dropped. He stared at the apparently guilt-ridden boy before him. How could he have been so wrong about the ghost? This was no ordinary seventeen year old kid who died too young. This was a seventeen year old Death Eater who was probably killed while he was attempting to murder the Hogwarts Headmaster, Albus Dumbledore. He remembered with a start that Snape was Draco's godfather. Which meant that when Draco died, the task of killing Dumbledore was left to him. It was hard for Harry not to feel a small sense of relief that Draco was killed instead of succeeding. He was overwhelmed with guilt, though, when the thought crossed his mind. No matter what Draco had done, there is never a good enough reason to kill a seventeen year old boy.

"I was also the one who figured out how to sneak Death Eaters into the castle," Draco admitted. He sighed when he saw how unresponsive Harry appeared. It was difficult at times to read the boy, and now was one of the times when a talent such as that one would have been immeasurably helpful.

"How?"

Draco snapped his attention back to the situation. "How what?"

Harry raised an eyebrow questioningly, but answered, "How did you sneak them into the castle?"

The blond shook his head. "I never did. I could have. I would have, had I not been…" He trailed off, ashamed. Harry had to wonder if he wasn't comfortable talking about his death or if he was ashamed of what he might have done. Draco had proved in the past that he had regrets about what his life had been like, though, so Harry assumed the latter. A moment later, Draco continued. "Do you know what a vanishing cabinet is?"

Shaking his head, Harry answered, "No, I don't. What is it?"

"They were really popular when Voldemort was first at large," Draco explained. "It appears to be just an ordinary cabinet, but it could transfer you virtually anywhere in the world. The cabinets were always made in pairs, so wherever yours' twin was, that's where you would end up."

Harry nodded, understanding. "So when the Death Eaters came around, people could just slip inside the cabinet, and disappear for a while."

"Exactly." Draco finally turned back to look at Harry. "There's a vanishing cabinet in the room of requirement."

"Ah. So where is its twin?"

"…Bourgin and Burke's."

Harry nodded again, and silence engulfed them. Each was lost in their own thoughts about the other, not knowing what to say next. But the silence had gone on for too long, and they were beginning to feel the tension in the air.

"Well," Draco started, smirking. "This is quite awkward. But at least you aren't running."

The other boy shrugged. "Maybe I would if I knew it would make a difference. You were a Death Eater. A pretty abhorrent one, at that. People like you are the reason that I wake up in the middle of the night, from nightmares. You're the reason that there was a war." With every word, Draco looked increasingly uncomfortable. At that moment, though, Harry just did not care. "If you had succeeded in killing Dumbledore, then I have no doubt that I would not be in the room at this moment. I probably would have refused to ever speak to you again."

"Yeah, yeah, I'm the bad guy. I get it," Draco mumbled, his eyes narrowed and cold.

Harry shook his head and held up his hand. "That's not what I'm trying to say here."

"Then make your point, Potter," the blond snapped.

"You really have no right to be angry, Malfoy," Harry seethed. He took a calming breath and continued. "You make it so hard to be nice to you sometimes. What I was trying to say is that, yeah, you are the bad guy. But for some reason, I'm not nearly as upset as I should be. I feel like it wasn't really your fault, you know?"

Draco shook his head wildly. "No, I don't know, Potter. Because I did all of those horrible things that you said. Me. Not Voldemort. Not my father. It was _me_."

Harry nodded slowly. "Yeah, it was. But would you have done those things if it weren't for your father's influence? Or if Voldemort hadn't forced the Dark Mark on you?"

The blond jumped from his seat and began to pace in front of the fireplace. Harry could see how aggravated he was just by looking at him. "How should I know? Maybe I would have been one of the good guys. Maybe I would have been even worse. There is no way to know." Harry could tell that this was something the other probably thought about pretty frequently.

"You've already told me that you regret what you've done," Harry pointed out. "I have no doubt that you would have been a great guy, if it had been your choice. All you did was choose to back the wrong side."

"There's no way to know that."

"Yes, there is." Harry disagreed wholeheartedly. "I know, because you realize that what you did was wrong. I bet if you could go back in time, and re-do everything, that you would. But most of all, I know because you saved my life." The brunet finished quietly, nervous that he was wrong and would be made a fool of. Though he was quite sure that Draco was involved in his near fall on the staircase, it was still entirely possible that he was wrong. This was the only way to find out.

Draco stopped pacing and turned to look at him with wide, surprised grey eyes. "What did you say?"

Harry stood up and walked closer to the ghost. "It was you that day, on the staircase. Wasn't it? You pulled me back when I was about to fall."

Draco clenched his jaw and looked away. He hesitated before answering, "Only you could defeat the Dark Lord and then be bested by a flight of stairs. Bloody idiot."

"Prat."

"Prat who saved your life. Don't forget about that part… On second thought, do forget about it. I will throw myself out the window if you start to thank me with tear-filled eyes, like you do with all of your other friends."

"First of all, that wouldn't do very much good, would it?"

"Sure, Potter. Go on with all the dead jokes. Let's see how you like it when I start making scar head jokes."

"Secondly, who said that we were friends?"

"At times like these, I wish that I had let you plummet those ten stories to your death."

Harry chuckled and took another small step forward, reaching out and placing his hand lightly on Draco's arm. "In all seriousness, Malfoy, thank you. I would probably be dead right now if you hadn't been there."

"Is that a tear I see forming in the corner of your eye?"

Laughing, Harry shoved the blond playfully.

The ghost of a genuine smile transformed Draco's face before it disappeared suddenly. He glared at the stairs that led to the boys' dorm. "The Weasel is coming."

As if on cue, Harry's red headed best friend appeared in the stairwell. He was dazed, obviously exhausted. He was rubbing one of his eyes, using the wall to guide him down the stairs.

"Harry?" he mumbled, half asleep.

"Yeah, Ron?" Harry called back.

"What are you doing up? It's nearly two in the morning."

The news took Harry by surprise. Had he really been talking to the ghost for an hour? It felt like so much less.

"Yeah, um, sorry I woke you, mate. I fell asleep on the couch. I was just about to head up to bed," Harry lied quickly.

Ron nodded and yawned. "Okay. Bring me a glass of water."

He headed back upstairs and Harry sighed, and turned back to Draco, who was leaning against the wall, glaring at the spot where Ron was standing just before.

"I'm going to go upstairs now," Harry told Draco. The blond nodded, and had half disappeared when Harry reached out and grabbed his arm. "Wait. Will I see you again soon?"

Draco smirked. "It's safe to say now that I don't have many prior engagements. So, yeah, you'll see me again soon."

Harry smiled and let him go. Now that Harry knew the ghost would always be around, it was kind of pointless for Draco to dematerialize at all, but he supposed it would be less awkward for both of them if his ghost wasn't _always_ visible to Harry.

Finally, Harry realized how tired he was. He poured Ron a glass of water before heading up to his dorm.


	6. Chapter 6

**Author's Note: Thanks to all those who favorited and alerted after the last chapter, and especially to my reviewers! I can't tell you how much I appreciate it. Soon I'll probably be posting two chapters in one day, since time is running out quickly before I leave home. I really hope you guys enjoy this chapter! It's a bit shorter than the others, but it felt like the right place to cut it off. Please leave reviews, they make me happy. :)**

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><p>"<em>The tears come streaming down your face. When you lose something you can't replace. When you love someone, but it goes to waste. Could it be worse? High up above or down below. When you're too in love to let it go. Lights will guide you home, and ignite your bones. And I will try to fix you." –Coldplay, 'Fix You'.<em>

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><p><em>Harry looked around, overwhelmed by the sheer volume of new students like himself crowding the hallway. He was trying to stick close to Ron and Hermione, but it was difficult not to get lost in the commotion. At least they were near the edge of the crowd. Suddenly, three boys appeared before him, unabashedly staring at his scar. Harry swiped at his hair self consciously, attempting not to feel inferior to the boy in front of him. <em>

_He was about the same size as Harry, but he looked so smug that he might as well have been towering over him, looking down at his messy hair and scrawny figure. His white blond hair was perfectly slicked back under his wizard cap. He, too, was frail, with pale skin that made him look almost sickly, but also elegant in a way. Regal. His piercing grey eyes scanned Harry's face with a look of barely disguised awe._

"_It's true then, what they're saying on the train. Harry Potter has come to Hogwarts." The boy said with disbelief in his voice. Harry wondered if he would ever get used to being this well-known. "This is Crabbe and Goyle. And I'm Maloy. Draco Malfoy." Ron didn't try to mask his amusement. He let out a short bark of laughter, before Draco turned his cold glare on him. "Think my name's funny, do you? No need to ask yours. Red hair and a hand me down robe? You must be a Weasley. You'll soon find that some wizarding families are better than others, Potter. You don't want to be making friends with the wrong sort." Harry's temper flared. The boy who had first come off as impressive was quickly proving himself to be the scum of the wizarding world. Malfoy was unaware of his anger however, and stuck out a thin, pale hand. "I can help you there." He grinned, and Harry's stomach turned uneasily._

_Harry eyed the hand warily, and for the briefest moment, imagined grasping it in his own, ending his short friendship with Ron, and starting a new one with this interesting, but rude as anything, new boy. He knew that he wouldn't though, and looked Draco straight in the eye, mustering up all of the confidence that he had. "I think I can tell the wrong sort for myself, thanks."_

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><p>For the first time in a long while, Harry woke up from a dream not drenched in sweat, feeling fear and discomfort. He was just… confused. He blinked slowly, letting his eyes adjust to the light and trying to recall the details of his dream.<p>

The dream itself wasn't all that bizarre. The only thing that was slightly unsettling was that Harry remembered that day. The setting, the people around him on his first day, it had all really happened. But Harry couldn't remember Malfoy being there.

A thought stuck him suddenly. Malfoy had said to him, 'Remember me.' What if this is what he meant? Had the two really met that day, and Harry had just forgotten? Excitedly, Harry shot out of bed. The beds around him were still covered, everyone else was sleeping, despite the light streaming in through the windows. Today, he was grateful for it. He threw back his covers and raced downstairs into the common room, hoping for some privacy.

The common room was empty, strangely enough. Harry checked the time. 6:32. That explained it. The others wouldn't wake up for another hour or so.

"Malfoy," he whispered harshly. He looked around, but still couldn't see the ghost. "Malfoy, I have to tell you something important!"

Another moment of silence passed before he heard the ghost's amused voice from behind him. "You rang?" Harry spun around, finding himself chest-to-chest with the slightly taller boy. He stumbled backwards, flustered, tripping and falling onto the couch. Cheeks burning from embarrassment, he looked up slowly to see the blond covering his mouth with his hand, shoulders shaking slightly.

"Shove off, Malfoy, that wasn't funny," Harry mumbled, fixing his hair idly.

Draco uncovered his mouth, revealing the widest, most genuine smile that Harry had ever seen on the boy. His eyes glittered in amusement, and not in a cruel way. Harry's heart skipped a beat as he stared at the unfamiliar boy, transfixed.

"Correction, Potter, that was funny. Also, you were the one who wanted to see me. You never specified where in the room I should be." Draco pointed out, still smiling.

Harry shook his head, trying to regain his composure. He placed his hand on his stomach in an attempt to calm what definitely were _not_ butterflies in his stomach, and answered, "Fine. From now on, if I need to talk to you, I expect you to be at least two feet away from me, alright?"

"I'll do my best," Draco consented. "Now, what is it that you needed?" He walked over and sat beside Harry on the couch, leaving a respectable amount of space between them.

Harry took a moment to look Draco over. He was definitely the boy that was in his dream. The same pale skin, intense grey eyes, impossibly blond hair. But something was so different, at the same time. Obviously he was older. Taller, and more built. And also dead. But that wasn't it. Harry knew something was off, he just couldn't place his finger on it.

"I had a dream about you last night," Harry blurted out. He cursed himself. Out of all the ways he could have brought up the topic, he chose the one way that Malfoy could use to mock him for eternity.

Draco grinned smugly. "That's what you thought was so important? What you raced down here to tell me?"

Harry glared. "No. Well, yes, but that's not it."

"What is it then?" the blond taunted.

Harry looked down at his hands, which were resting on his lap. Maybe he shouldn't tell Malfoy. This could be a major mistake. What if he was wrong, and the dream really was just a dream? Malfoy would never let him live this down.

"Potter," Draco called quietly, leaning forward slightly. When Harry looked up, the smirk was fading from his face, and his eyebrows were furrowed, making him appear anxious. "What was the dream about?"

Harry shook his head slowly. Instead of answering the question, he asked, "Have we ever met before?"

The blond looked even more confused than before. "What are you talking about? Of course we have."

"No," Harry corrected quickly. "I mean, before you… died. Did we ever meet when you were alive?"

Silence consumed the room. Draco stared at Harry, slack jawed, making the latter feel more and more foolish by the moment.

"Okay, clearly my dream wasn't what I thought it was. I'll just go back to sleep then. Sorry for bothering you," Harry muttered and stood up, heading towards the dorm doors, humiliated.

"Stop!" Draco leapt off the couch, catching up with the other right when his hand touched the door handle. He grabbed his shoulder and spun him around, once again invading his personal space.

Harry tried to take a step away, but his back hit the door. The blond was trapping him there, his hands on the door on either side of Harry's head.

"Tell me what the dream was about," Draco said. To Harry, it sounded like a mixture between a demand and a plea.

So Harry told him. Before he had even made a conscious decision about what to do, Harry was telling Draco every last detail of the dream that he could remember. The blond stayed completely still throughout the entire story, besides the muscle that twitched occasionally in his jaw. Once he was done talking about his dream, the two remained in silence. After a long, tense moment, Draco closed his eyes and suddenly dropped his head forward, onto Harry's shoulder.

Since he was pretty much trapped on all sides, all Harry could do was try to make sense of the situation, and try to calm his embarrassingly loud heart beat. This was _Malfoy_ who was practically on top of him. A boy. A _ghost_ boy. Merlin, his head was spinning. This had to stop.

"Malfoy," Harry said sternly, and placed his hands on the other's chest, trying to push him away. "Tell me what's happening."

Malfoy finally lifted his head and stared into Harry's confused green eyes. He smiled brightly for the second time that morning.

"You're remembering."

Harry blinked slowly. "Remembering. Remembering you?"

Draco rolled his eyes though his smile remained plastered on his face, and took a step back, giving Harry some much needed space. "Yes, remembering me, you thick-skulled idiot."

"Hey," the brunet snapped, "I'm doing the best I can with this, alright? Give me a break." He covered his eyes with his palms and sighed heavily. "I'm just so confused. If I've met you before, why don't I remember you?"

The blond's eyes immediately lit up, and he stepped forward to grab onto Harry's shoulders. "Don't you see, Harry? It's all related! My death, your memories, they're connected. If you figure out who killed me, you'll figure out why you can't remember me, I'm sure of it!" He shook the slightly taller boy with every word he said, and the intensity in his eyes was just a bit frightening to Harry. He'd never seen the ghost this worked up about anything before. "Figure out who killed me, Harry, please. You _need_ to know. You _must_ remember."

Harry grabbed Draco's wrists to stop the shaking. His mind was reeling at a hundred miles a minute and he couldn't form a coherent thought as he stared into the eager grey eyes only three inches from him. The more intently he stared at the other boy's face, the more he realized how desperate Draco was, and how _odd_ this entire situation was. And so even though he knew there were a hundred more important questions he should be asking, all he could ask was, "Draco… Exactly how close were we?"

Draco drew back quickly, and Harry immediately flushed, thinking he had just made a total fool out of himself, once again.

"Why do you ask?" the blond asked, his face betraying nothing.

"It's just that… well, I'm the only one you show yourself to. I'm the one who has to figure this whole mess out," he started to explain, pacing the floor as he worked everything out in his head. "I know we have met before, but for some reason, I can't remember anything about you." After this, he slowed down, hesitantly adding, "And there have been these… weird moments between us. Things that make me think that maybe we had some kind of… close relationship when you were alive." Harry stared at the floor, knowing that his cheeks were flaming red. "I'm not saying that I'm into blokes or anything like that And I'm not saying that you are either. Maybe we were just really good friends or something. All I can tell you is that, knowing what I know now, it just seems like maybe we could have been… _something_." He knew he wasn't entirely making sense, but he wasn't exactly sure what he was trying to say, either.

When he glanced upwards, Draco was just shaking his head. "I wish I could just tell you everything, Harry." It was a weird time to realize that Draco had stopped calling him by his last name, but Harry took note of it anyway. "But I can't. And then there's a part of me that doesn't even want to tell you. I want you to remember on your own."

"But how?" Harry groaned, frustrated and overwhelmed and more than tired of the vague, cryptic answers he always got from the ghost.

Draco hesitated, and then slowly walked towards the other. "Maybe, like with the dream you had, certain things can trigger your memory." Harry eyed him warily as he continued to approach, eyes set firmly on his own. "Do you want to try?"

Something in the back of his mind told him he should really say no. No good could come of that predatory, intense look that the blond was currently sporting, yet a larger part of him was curious about what might happen if he agreed. "It's worth a shot."

The blond grinned and only stopped walking when he had the taller boy pinned against the wall, hands on either side of his head once more. "Close your eyes," he whispered, and Harry obeyed, heart jumping out of his chest in anticipation.

After a long moment, he brushed the hair out of Harry's face and sighed. "Beautiful," he breathed, so lightly that Harry wasn't completely sure he said it at all. He cupped his cheeks in his hands and finally placed a chaste, tender kiss on the corner of the other boy's lips. A second later, and the pressure on his lips and the hands on his face were gone. When Harry gathered the courage to open his eyes, Draco was gone as well.


	7. Chapter 7

**Author's Note: As always, thanks so much to everyone who's favorited, alerted, and especially reviewed this story! Just so you know, a lot of this chapter and the next chapter will be flashbacks, and also, characters might seem a little off in this chapter. It's pretty hard to know what a nice Draco would act like, since he's never actually written being anything besides rude in the books. I tried to keep it pretty in character though, so hopefully I accomplished that.**

**There's probably only gonna be like two more chapters! This story is definitely almost over. I'll be so happy when I'm actually done with this, since this is the only story I've even come close to finishing.**

**Anyways. Hope you guys like the chapter, please leave your thoughts and suggestions in a review! :)**

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><p>"<em>Save me, I'm lost. Oh, lord, I've been waiting for you. I'd pay any cost, save me from being confused. Show me what I'm looking for." – Show Me What I'm Looking For, Carolina Liar.<em>

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><p>Looking back on it, Harry supposed it had been naive of him to expect a relatively normal, carefree year. Even without Voldemort around, he should have known that Hogwarts had another adventure planned for him for his seventh year there.<p>

Rather than pay close attention to his Herbology lecture, he decided that mentally reviewing the events of the past few weeks would be a much better way to spend his time.

First, he walked into his room to find a blond boy lying on his bed like he owned the place. Second, he finds out the boy is a ghost, and that he needs Harry to figure out his murder. Next, Harry discovers that Malfoy's an insufferable prat, as well as a Death Eater. Then he dreams about him, and realizes that he actually knew Draco when he was still alive, but for whatever reason, can no longer remember him. And finally, two days ago, Malfoy kissed him, hoping to trigger his memory.

Yeah, that sounded like a pretty average semester to him.

He rested his head in his hand as he stared blankly at Professor Sprout, not having a single idea of what she was going on about. What he was extremely aware of, however, was the fact that Malfoy was somewhere nearby, perhaps even directly next to him. He shivered slightly and clenched his jaw, sitting up straighter in his seat.

So far, Malfoy had been wrong. He hadn't remembered anything new from his past since the dream he had two nights earlier.

Though the kiss hadn't changed his memory even the slightest bit, it definitely changed the present. Harry was constantly aware of the blond, even though he had yet to show himself. He jumped every time a door slammed shut and avoided being left alone at all costs. He just didn't know how he was supposed to act when he did eventually come face to face with Draco. Would he act like nothing had happened at all? Or would Malfoy insist on asking him point blank why he had been acting so strangely? It was just a kiss after all. Maybe the blond had just done it to mess with him. It didn't sound so unreasonable. For whatever reason, though, Harry hoped it wasn't just some kind of twisted prank.

"Harry? Harry!"

Harry turned to face Ron, standing impatiently next to his desk.

"Are you ready to go?" he questioned, his vaguely annoyed tone giving Harry the idea that it wasn't the first time he had asked.

"Uh, yeah, sorry," he mumbled, grabbing his things and following Ron out of the classroom.

"Were you even paying attention during class at all?" Ron asked. Without even waiting for an answer, he added testily, "She assigned us another report, due tomorrow. We just finished midterms, can't the woman give us a break?"

Harry nodded mutely, which only seemed to annoy the red head further. "You could probably get away with not even writing it, you know. You're Harry Potter, you can do whatever the bloody hell you want."

Harry stopped in his tracks.

"_You're Harry Potter, you can do whatever the bloody hell you want," Draco growled. "Even if Dumbledore himself says it's against the rules."_

_Harry sighed for what seemed like the millionth time that day. "Malfoy, I didn't put my name into the goblet. Not that I really need to explain myself to you, anyway." He started to walk away, crossing the almost empty courtyard._

"_This time, Potter," Draco shouted, "you do." For some reason that even he couldn't explain, the brunet actually turned back. _

"_And why is that?"_

"_Because it's not fair!" Draco snapped. Both boys seemed shocked at his response, but the blond quickly recovered and continued, "It just isn't. I'm just as good at you in class, if not better. Why is it that you get everything you want, all the fame and the recognition, and I'm stuck in the background?" _

_Green eyes blinked owlishly back at him and Malfoy scoffed. Why was he even saying all of this anyway? Just as he turned to leave, he heard Harry admit quietly, "I don't really know." _

_Harry watched as all of the anger seemed to just melt from the other, leaving a tired-looking, subdued Malfoy, something he had yet to witness. The blond hesitated a moment longer before nodding and walking away. Harry watched him go until he disappeared into the castle. _

"Alright, seriously, mate, what's the matter with you?"

Harry blinked dumbly at Ron from four or five paces behind him, mind reeling. "Uh, I'm sorry, just really distracted today," he mumbled.

"Clearly," Ron stated before sighing and walking over. "Sorry for being such a jerk. I'm just stressed about classes, and Hermione isn't talking to me, and you're barely talking at all. It's just an off day for both of us, I suppose."

The brunet nodded and they started walking again. "Why isn't Hermione speaking to you?"

Ron rolled his eyes. "Some rubbish about me terrorizing her cat or something. That thing should be put down," he grumbled angrily, and Harry suspected that was the primary reason for his friend's stress. He stayed quiet though, knowing the two would work things out on their own, as usual.

The rest of the walk was silent, giving Harry plenty of time to think about Malfoy. Apparently, Draco had been right. The kiss had done something, and he guessed that he would start to remember other, more important memories, too.

As he climbed into the portrait of the Fat Lady, the only thing plaguing his mind was why he couldn't remember the blond in the first place.

A part of him wanted to run upstairs and tell Draco that it had worked, but he decided against it, wanting to keep the memory to himself for a while.

The moment his feet hit the floor in the common room, he had an armful of Hermione. He laughed and put his arms around her waist. "Hello, 'Mione."

"Hi, Harry." She pulled back sheepishly. "I missed you."

"Really? I couldn't tell at all."

"Oh, be quiet. Haven't you missed me at all?"

Harry smiled reassuringly. "Of course I have." He pulled her back into an embrace, feeling slightly guilty. Truthfully, he had so much going on in his mind that he had hardly noticed that the girl hadn't been around as much lately. "Ready to go to dinner?" he asked, and felt her nod against his shoulder.

After gathering a few of their friends, Harry, Ron, Hermione, Neville, and Seamus headed down to the Great Hall together. It was slightly awkward, since Ron and Hermione weren't on speaking terms, but as usual, Seamus was able to fill any silence with mindless drivel, a trait of his that Harry was extremely grateful for, most of the time.

Harry's stomach growled loudly and his mouth watered as the aroma of the dining hall hit them. As always, he piled a bit of everything onto his plate and dug in, focusing most of his attention on his food as he tried to ignore the petty argument that was going on between his two closest friends.

"That looks simply delicious."

Harry jumped and looked upwards to find Nearly Headless Nick floating above the table, wistfully eying the dozens of plates covering the table.

"It is!" Dean responded eagerly, shoveling a spoonful of mashed potatoes into his mouth.

"Besides from having a fully attached head, eating is probably one of the things I miss most about being alive," the ghost informed them.

Seamus looked forlornly at his full plate. "Assuming I still have my head when I die, I'll definitely miss eating the most. Ghosts can't eat at all?" he asked curiously.

"Well, we can," Sir Nicholas responded, "but it has no taste, unless it is very aged. And at that point, not much still tastes good. The youngest of us claim to be able to enjoy their food, but you never know with that lot. What I wouldn't give to just have a single, fresh green bean."

Harry grimaced slightly, never having had a taste for the vegetable. "Why green beans?" he asked.

Nicholas shrugged, and his head nearly toppled off. He braced it with one hand, and answered, "I always loved them, even when I was just a boy!"

Harry blinked slowly, staring down at his plate.

"_Typical. The Slytherin's favorite food is green beans. Honestly, sometimes I think you tell me these things just to irritate me."_

_Draco crossed his arms over his chest and raised an eyebrow. "Typical. The Gryffindor thinks everything is about him. I can send an owl to my mum and ask her to confirm it for you, if you'd like." _

_Harry just rolled his eyes and sat down across from the blond at the small, circular table the Room of Requirements had provided for them. _

"_You know," Harry started, chewing a piece of chicken slowly. "I'm getting a bit sick of eating in the Room of Requirements. And of lying to my friends about where I am." _

_Looking affronted, Draco set down his silverware. "You were the one who suggested eating together."_

"_Yeah, but I meant upstairs, in public. I'm tired of being a secret, Draco." Harry probably should have been embarrassed by how whiney he sounded, but was so frustrated he really didn't care._

"_I'm not ready yet. And you told me you would wait until I was." The blond stared accusingly at the other._

"_But that was eight months ago!" Harry exploded. "I was counting on it being two or three months, tops. Instead, you've had me sneaking around and lying to my friends for almost a year." _

_Draco shook his head. "I'm not ready for people to know. And if you can't understand that, then maybe this relationship was a stupid idea after all." _

_The brunet stared back at his boyfriend, whose unrelenting gaze seemed like a challenge. _Breakup with me_, it said. _I dare you_. _

_He shook his head and sighed. "I just feel like you're ashamed to be with me or something."_

"_What?" Draco asked incredulously. "It should be you who's ashamed to be with me."_

"_Why would I ever be embarrassed of you? I have the most charming, witty, handsome boy in this school all to myself. Don't be mad that I just want to show you off a little." He grinned as Draco blushed and stared down at his untouched plate of food. _

_Harry stood and walked over to his side of the table. "I don't want to fight, okay? If you want to keep it a secret, that's fine." He picked a green bean off of the other's plate and bit into it. He nearly gagged, but forced himself to swallow the small bite. "These are truly awful." _

_Draco stared blankly up at him. "I guess I just have a more refined taste than you. Not that that's very surprising."_

_The brunet chuckled and leaned down, kissing his boyfriend before heading to the door. "I'm gonna go up to the dorms. I'll see you tomorrow."_

"_Harry?"_

_Startled, Harry turned back to his boyfriend, who was pushing the food around on his plate. Even after eight months of dating, he still wasn't used to the blond calling him by his first name. "Yeah?"_

"_You can tell people about us. If you'd like to." _

_Harry grinned broadly, though Draco was stubbornly refusing to look at him. _

"_I love you, Draco."_

"_Yeah, you too." _

Harry was blushing furiously by the time his short flashback was over. For a moment, all he could do was stare into space and reflect on what he had just remembered. He had been dating Malfoy? For almost a year, at least?

"Harry?" Hermione reached out and touched her boyfriend's arm. He recoiled from her touch as though she had burned him, and jumped out of his seat. "What's wrong?" she asked in alarm.

"Um, nothing. I mean, well, I'm not feeling quite right. I think I've got a fever. I'm going to the hospital wing," he excused himself lamely, and rushed out of the dining hall, leaving his worried friends in his wake.

He had never felt so guilty in his life. When Draco had kissed him, he didn't have any worries about it being cheating. How could it be, since it was with another guy? But now that he knew that Draco was technically his ex-boyfriend, the guilt was suffocating.

Telling Hermione would only upset her, and there was no real reason for her to worry about it. His feelings for Malfoy were confusing at best, but it wasn't his fault that the other boy had kissed him, or that he had completely forgotten about their romantic history. He found a secluded alcove a few hallways away from the Great Hall, and sat down on the cold tile, head in hands. Somehow, without even looking up, he sensed the blond's presence beside him.

"You were right, Malfoy."

He glanced to his right and saw Draco leaning casually against the brick wall. He managed to look bored and mildly impressed at the same time, as only Malfoy could.

"What have you been remembering?" he asked, trying to remain casual.

"Little things here and there," Harry answered vaguely.

Draco leaned sideways and bumped him with his shoulder, glaring slightly. "Details, Potter."

Harry sighed. "Well, I know you were mad when I got entered into the tournament fourth year. And I know that your favorite food was green beans. And that we were secretly dating for eight months." He tried to remain nonchalant, but he found that he just couldn't act like the blond boy could.

"Ah. So now you're wondering what to do about Granger, which explains the little panic attack at dinner."

"I don't want to hurt her," Harry explained. "I love her."

Draco countered quickly, "No, you don't."

Harry looked curiously at the other. "Yes, I do."

"Fine. Maybe you love the little bint." Harry opened his mouth to protest furiously, but Draco cut him off, "But you aren't in love with her."

"And you would know that how?"

"Because you're still in love with me," he stated simply. "You just don't remember it yet."

"Ah, I see. And you know this because ghosts can read minds?"

"No," he answered seriously, apparently not really in the mood for their usual banter. "I just know you. I know that right now, you're only dating Granger because it's comfortable and familiar. Even you must know that you aren't meant for each other."

Harry frowned. "Love is hard. We might not be perfect, but we have to work at it. Relationships get easier over time."

"No, you've got it backwards," Draco insisted, a new, passionate light coming to his eyes that Harry had never seen before. "Love is so simple. Falling in love was the easiest thing I ever did in my life, and also the most rewarding. It was being in a relationship that was hard. It never got easier. We constantly challenged each other, and thank Merlin for that. Look at us, Harry. Do you think that we'd be likely to settle for a boring, easy relationship? We kept each other on our toes. And once you remember everything that we've been through together, you'll remember what a real relationship is supposed to be like."

By the time Draco finished speaking, the space between the two boys was miniscule, Harry's heart had somehow managed to sneak its way up to his throat, and their faces were painted a light shade of pink.

"You love me." Harry had meant it to be a question, but realized too late that it didn't actually sound like one.

Draco nodded firmly, with no hesitation. "Falling in love is easy," he repeated, "but falling out of it is damn near impossible." He reached out boldly and tucked a stray piece of hair away from the brunet's now beet-red face.

"So what should I do?" Harry asked with an embarrassingly shaky voice.

Malfoy smirked, which eased the other's nerves quite a bit. _This_ Malfoy he was quite used to. "Finally realizing that I'm far more intelligent than you could ever hope to be, eh, Potter?"

Harry rolled his green eyes, as he often did while in the ghost's presence. "I wouldn't go that far, Malfoy. Just because you were right about Hermione doesn't mean you know everything. It just means you think you do."

"With good reason," the blond nodded. "But take your time before you make any big decisions… Not about Granger, of course, you should break up with her immediately, without a moment's hesitation. But take your time when you're making decisions that involve me. Don't let my devilish good looks cloud your judgment. I want you to be making a fully informed decision when you come crawling back to me."

Laughing, Harry elbowed Malfoy hard in the shoulder. True to his character, Malfoy clutched at his arm dramatically.

"Have you ever heard of this thing called food? It's supposed to make people not so scrawny and bony, so that when they elbow their friends, they won't end up with puncture wounds." Draco rubbed his shoulder and scowled.

Harry chuckled again and stood, stretching out his relatively sore legs.

"It was two years, by the way."

Harry looked back to the blond. "What was?"

Draco stood up as well and began to brush dust off of his clothes. "We dated for two years. From the end of fourth year to the end of sixth year."

The brunet stared, slack-jawed, at the other. They had dated until the end of sixth year? That was so recently.

"So, why did we break up?" he asked, trying to regain his composure. Draco gave him a pointed look and then leaned back on the stone wall, waiting for him to figure it out on his own. After a minute, Harry asked quietly, "We never broke up, did we?"

Malfoy shook his head. "No, we didn't."

"Oh."

"Yeah."

A heavy silence consumed the room as guilt once again suffocated Harry. He thought back to the first time he had seen Draco. The ghost had expected him to know who he was, because as far as he knew, they were still a couple. He had never felt so awful in his life.

"I'm sorry," he whispered.

Malfoy walked up to him, and after a moment's hesitation, reached out and cupped Harry's cheek in his hand, running a thumb along his strong jaw line. "I know. Don't be, though. It's not your fault."

"I feel like it is," Harry responded, reaching up and threading his fingers through Draco's. He could see the surprise barely hidden in his eyes as their hands dropped to the side, still linked.

"Don't worry about it," Draco reassured him. "You're remembering now. Everything's going to be fine."

"Okay," he replied simply, wishing that he could believe him.

Malfoy grinned halfheartedly. "Go back to the dining hall, I'm sure your friends are all panicked right now about what's wrong with you. Bloody Gryffindors."

"Yeah, I'll go," Harry agreed distractedly, staring at their intertwined hands, a confused jumble of emotions running through him. "I'm going to break up with Hermione tonight."

Draco's small smirk turned into a genuine smile that made all of the air in Harry's lungs leave him in a sharp exhale. The blond leaned down slowly and pressed his lips to Harry's flushed cheek, lingering there for a moment longer than necessary before pulling back.

"See you soon," he whispered before disappearing.

Harry blinked several times, composing himself before he headed back to the Great Hall.


	8. Chapter 8

**Author's Note: So happy to be this far into the story! However, tomorrow is my last day home. It's gonna be an extremely busy day, but hopefully I can get all of the necessary writing done tonight. That way, the story will be over tomorrow, either with one super long, epic chapter, or two still pretty long chapters. I'm guessing it'll probably be the second one, since I still haven't exactly decided how to end the story. *gulp* Well, wish me luck. **

**This is definitely one of my favorite chapters, though you'll have to forgive me, since I am a sucker for a bit of melodrama. Hope you all enjoy it! Thanks to my lovely reviewers, let me know what you think of this one! Or better yet, let me know how YOU think the story should end. I've already got a decent plan, but it would be interesting to get some more input!**

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><p>"<em>The room was silent as we all tried so hard to remember the way it feels to be alive, the day that he first met him. You make me think of someone wonderful, but I can't place him, I wake up every morning, wishing one more time to face him. Something's gotta change, things cannot stay the same." – Goodnight Goodnight, Maroon 5<em>

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><p>Harry had stayed in the common room with Ron and Hermione, waiting for the redhead to retreat up the stairs so that he could speak to Hermione alone. However, when Ron did leave, Harry practically jumped off the couch and followed him, not even stopping to kiss Hermione goodnight.<p>

Even as he lay in bed he cursed himself, but he just couldn't force himself to do it just then. The three had always been such a tight group, and he was about to mess it up. How would he be able to handle not having the bushy haired girl, his best friend of seven years, in his life anymore?

He turned on his side and shut his eyes tight, trying not to think about how upset Malfoy must have been when he broke his promise, until he drifted off into a fitful sleep.

"_God this place is going to the dogs," Malfoy started. The moment he heard his voice, Harry's blood began to boil. "Wait until my father hears Dubledore's got this oaf teaching classes."_

_Without a moment of hesitation, Harry drew his wand, walking towards Draco menacingly, "Listen you stupid prat-" He was cut off as Draco stepped back and whimpered in fear._

"_Dementor, dementor!" He shouted, pointing just past Harry. The brunet jumped in fear, and spun around to find nothing but his fellow classmates. Heat rose to his cheeks as Draco and his peons raised their hoods and groaned, mocking him._

_It was all Harry could do to not hex the git then and there._

_Before he could make a single move, the scene faded away, and he found himself walking across the school courtyard._

"_Why so tense, Potter? My father and I have a bet, you see." Harry turned just in time to watch the blond jump from a tree branch and land gracefully only a few feet away from him, "I don't think you're gonna last ten minutes in this tournament. He disagrees. He thinks you won't last five." _

_Harry gripped his wand, wishing that Moody weren't standing so close by, so that he could hex the grin off of the prat. "I don't give a damn what you or your father thinks, Malfoy. He's vile and cruel, and you're just as pathetic." That did the trick. His arrogant smirk faded quicker than he had expected, and a sneer took its place._

"_You don't know anything about me or my family," he seethed._

"_I know more than enough," Harry retorted, feigning calmness. The blond always got under his skin in a way that nobody else could, making it hard for him to keep his composure. "He's a good-for-nothing Death Eater, and you're just following in his footsteps."_

_Draco's wand was out and pressed sharply against his chest, grey eyes flashing with rage. "We don't have a choice. We aren't lucky enough to have our mudblood mother die to protect us like you had. The Dark Lord is getting stronger every day, and if he decides to kill us, we'll actually be dead." _

_Harry shoved him off of him. "Yeah, I feel so lucky that my mum is dead… Everyone has a choice, Malfoy, you're just choosing wrong. And one day, you're going to get yourself killed because of it." He was quite proud of himself for his saint-like restraint at that moment. _

"_Killed if I stay with him, killed if I leave. What difference does it make?" Draco growled through gritted teeth, his hold on his wand loosening slightly._

"_It makes all the difference in the world, and you know it," Harry walked forward and gripped the front of the blond's robe, holding tight so he wouldn't be able to break free despite his obvious effort. "And what really makes me so angry is that you know that I could help you if you just asked. You're know as well as I do that Voldemort's coming back, and when he does, me and Dumbledore could help you and your family. But you're just too damn proud to admit you need help." He let go of Draco, who scrambled to pick up the wand he had dropped at some point during his struggle. _

_Though Harry had expected Malfoy to be spitting fire at this point, the blond just kept his eyes on the ground, strangely subdued. _

"_If you stay with your father and Voldemort, you'll definitely die. If you come and join our side, you'll probably live. Are you really going to get yourself killed over your silly ego?" Draco glared up at him, but said nothing. After a few more moments, Harry decided he wasn't going to get any sort of response. "Fine then," he said, and began to walk away. He had only gotten a few steps away, though, before a hand gripped his arm._

"_Potter."_

_Harry turned around, but Draco retained his firm grip on his arm. Without making eye contact, the blond said quietly, "You need to help me." _

_Harry was stunned. Not only had Draco requested his help, he had found the only way possible to phrase it that sounded like a command. Nevertheless, he grinned, glad he had finally made progress with the other._

"_Of course I will." _

_Next thing he knew, he was in the hospital wing, feeling quite odd._

"_Hey." Harry looked up from his bed and saw Draco inspecting his wounds, wincing. "Those are worse than I thought they were." He took a seat next to Harry._

"_Yeah," Harry mumbled distractedly. _

"_What's wrong?"_

"_You're pretty."_

_The blond raised one delicate eyebrow. "You mean handsome, right?" _

"_No," Harry shook his head quickly, reaching out to brush blond fringe from the other's face. "You're pretty," he repeated, "like a girl."_

_Draco sputtered indignantly, slapping Harry's hand away. "I am not. What kind of medicine are you on, anyway?"_

"_Sorry about that, Mister Malfoy." Draco turned quickly to see Madame Pomfrey approaching to check on the Gryfindor. "Those horrible creatures managed to cut deep enough to hit muscle. The potion to fix him up is fairly simple, but it clouds his judgment and makes him a bit… er, bizarre."_

_Draco looked more closely at the wound on Potter's shoulder. He had known that the mer-people were a violent group, but he was still fairly shocked they had been able to hurt Harry so badly. _

"_I won," the injured boy stated, grinning proudly._

"_Of course you did," Draco agreed with a wave of his hand. "I knew you would. Those other idiots have no hope of winning this tournament."_

_Harry leaned in closer to the blond, and didn't seem to notice when Draco backed up subtly. "Wanna hear a secret?"_

"_Not particularly, but I'm guessing you're gonna tell me anyway."_

_Without acknowledging his comment, Harry whispered conspiratorially, "I thought it would be you at the bottom of the lake. When I saw Ron, it threw me off. That's when the merman got me." _

_Draco's eyebrows shot up to his hairline and Harry settled back into his pillows. _

_He shook his head, knowing it had to be the potion talking. They had gotten pretty close over the past few weeks, but not that close. "Go back to sleep, Potter. I'll stop by tomorrow." _

"_Night, Drake."_

"…_.I'll let that one slide, since you just got sliced open, but if you ever call me that when you're in the proper state of mind, I'll hex you into next week." _

"_No you wouldn't." _

"_I most certainly would."_

"_Nah, you like me too much." _

_Draco sighed and ran a hand through his hair. "In your dreams, Potter," he mumbled as he left, but Harry just snuggled back under the blankets, confident that he was right._

Harry awoke with a small smile on his face. Though it was disturbing to realize how much of his past was actually missing, he was enjoying putting together the pieces in order to get a complete picture of his relationship with Draco.

He stood up and stretched, sighing contentedly as several of his joints cracked satisfyingly. He furrowed his brow and looked around, noticing that he was the only one left in the dorm. He cast a quick tempus charm and cursed out loud, falling over himself to pull clothes out of his trunk and throw them on hurriedly. How was it that he managed to always be late?

Harry was already fifteen minutes late for Herbology by the time he was sprinting down the stairs to the common room, tying his tie as he went. He stopped dead in his tracks, however, when he took in the sight that was waiting for him there. Hermione was sitting on the couch with her arms on her knees and her head in her hands, sobbing unabashedly.

He treaded forward carefully, attempting to remain quiet. "Hermione?" he called out.

The girl hurriedly wiped her eyes with the sleeves of her robe and stared up at him, fresh tears already making their way down her face. Harry walked quickly over to the couch and sat beside her, though the moment he sat she looked in the opposite direction. A quick pang of fear went through him, wondering if she had somehow found out about Draco, though he knew it was illogical.

"I'm so sorry," Hermione whispered, her voice raw.

Confusedly, Harry reached out and touched her arm. "What are you talking about?"

"I know you know about me and Ron, Harry, you don't have to pretend."

The brunet boy furrowed his brow. Her and Ron? Suddenly, it hit him like a punch to the gut. The icy silence between the two, Ron's anger at him, Hermione's guilt…

"You cheated on me," the words tasted bitter in his mouth and he spat them out like poison.

Hermione began to sob again. "I'm so sorry, Harry. I'm such a horrible person. I honestly didn't mean for it to happen. I mean, well, I did, but-"

Harry lifted his hand to stop her. He realized that even though he felt betrayed, he didn't have any right to be angry whatsoever. After all, he had planned on breaking up with her the night before. He knew what it was like to have your heart pulling you in two separate directions, like he was literally being torn in half to two different people.

He sighed heavily and admitted, "I'm not mad, Hermione."

"W-what? Why not?" she asked, confused, but sounding relieved.

"Because we're not right for each other. We never were." He briefly considered telling her about Draco, to appease her guilt, but decided against it. Not because he wanted her to feel bad, but because he doubted Draco would really appreciate him telling her everything. He had always enjoyed his privacy.

Hermione let out a sad hiccup and covered her mouth with a delicate hand, but nodded.

"I love you, but I'm in love with Ron," she told him quietly.

Apparently, that was a common separation of emotions that up until last night, Harry had been completely unaware of. "I understand."

"I know this is completely selfish of me," she started, "but I can't stand to lose you, Harry. I took your kindness for granted, but please forgive me."

Harry leaned forward and kissed the girl's cheek, still salty from tears. "I could never stay angry at you, 'Mione."

She smiled at him through her tears and reached out to intertwine their fingers. Harry noted briefly that the gesture didn't make his heart skip a beat or make his stomach do somersaults the way it had when it was Draco's finger's interlaced with his. At this point, it didn't really surprise him anymore.

"Thank you, Harry. You're a much better person than I could ever hope to be."

Harry smiled at her. "You're wonderful, Hermione. Don't worry." He stood up to leave, trying to suppress the relief he felt. After all, most people wouldn't be particularly happy to find out that their girlfriend had cheated on them with their best friend. Then again, most people didn't have ghosts from their past that they were quickly falling for, either.

Before he crawled through the portrait hole, he turned to see Hermione still sitting on the couch, watching him leave. "Was it easy?" he asked.

"Was what easy?" she responded curiously.

"Falling in love with Ron."

She smiled sadly and replied, "I never wanted to hurt you, Harry. But yes, falling in love with him was the easiest thing I've ever done. It was like one day, he was just this little boy on a train with red hair and dirt on his nose, and then the next, he was this funny, charming man with such a big heart. And that was it. I was in love."

Harry nodded and looked at her for a moment longer before crawling through the portrait, almost half an hour late to his class. He knew that going at this point would be pointless, and that he desperately needed to see Draco, and talk to him about what had just happened. He started walking to the one place that he knew was always abandoned, the girl's bathroom on the third floor, where he and his friends had spent much of their time second year.

"Harry, it's been so long since you've visited me!" Moaning Myrtle shrieked the moment he walked inside. "Do you not like me anymore?"

"That's not it, Myrtle," he told her. It wasn't technically a lie, since he had never really liked her in the first place. "But right now, I really need privacy. Do you think you could do that for me?" he asked her as sweetly as possible.

Myrtle smiled. "Anything for you, Harry." She swooned dramatically before flying into her usual stall and disappearing down the toilet. Harry was slightly surprised that she had conceded so easily.

"Malfoy!" he called. The blond appeared by the sinks immediately, looking extremely uncomfortable.

"You know I'm right here," he told Harry, snarky as usual, "no need to yell."

Harry grinned. "You usually don't show up so easily. Yelling is required more often than not."

"Yeah, yeah. Can we go somewhere else?" Malfoy asked, eying his surroundings with distaste, gripping the edge of the sink so tightly his knuckles were turning white. The sight of it triggered something in Harry's brain, and for a moment he thought he was going to have another flashback, but try as he might, he couldn't place his finger on what it was.

"Why? Too spooky for you in here?" he taunted halfheartedly.

Malfoy crossed his arms over his chest stubbornly. "I refuse to speak to you until we go elsewhere."

Harry sighed. "Fine, you great baby." He headed out the door and walked through the winding passageways until he found an unlocked, empty classroom.

"So, I'm guessing you saw the entire scene with Hermione?" Harry asked the empty classroom.

"You know me, can't pass up the chance to spy on your personal life." The brunet spun around to find the boy perched on a nearby desk. "And before you ask," he added casually, "yes, I do think her and the weasel are both pathetic excuses for human beings, which means that they'll make a brilliant couple. Yes, I do understand why you weren't mad. And yes, I did hear what you asked her before you left. What I don't know is why you didn't tell her about me." He tried to keep his face completely blank, but Harry knew him well enough to know that it was really bothering him.

Harry shrugged. "I just assumed that you wouldn't want her to know. When we were dating you didn't tell people for almost a year, and even then it was only because I practically begged you. Why would you feel any differently now?"

Draco hesitated and walked slowly towards him. "Because now, everything is different. I know it might be easy to forget, Harry, but I'm _dead_. Even I manage to forget sometimes."

The brunet looked at him and bit his lip. It was true, with all of his newfound memories, he had almost forgotten why the other had approached him in the first place.

"As much as I loathe admitting it, something has to change. We can't keep going on like this forever." The blond appeared sad, but resolute.

"What do you mean?"

"I mean that it's not fair of me to expect you to just fall in love with me all over again, when I'm not even being completely honest with you." Draco reached out with both hands and once again intertwined their fingers.

A cold pit was forming in Harry's stomach, a feeling he often got when expecting bad news, despite the warmth emanating from their joined hands. "Honest about what?" he asked reluctantly.

He shook his head. "You shouldn't hear it from me, I don't think."

"Then who?"

"Take a wild guess. Has anyone been acting weirdly around you lately? Like they're nervous you might know something you shouldn't?"

"Well, Ron and Hermione, obviously." Draco gave him a pointed look. "No," Harry rejected his theory, "they've been acting weird because she was cheating with him."

"There's more to it," Draco told him firmly. "I know there is. You have to tell them about me. They're the key to this whole thing."

Harry stared down at their hands, taking the tiniest step closer to the blond. "Even if that were true, what if I don't want to know anymore?"

"Why?"

"You know perfectly well why," Harry told him. When Draco remained silent, he looked up into his silver eyes and explained anyway, "If I figure out who killed you, you'll be gone for good. And what if I don't want you to stop haunting me?"

Draco smiled sadly. "I knew you'd get used to me," he said jokingly. Harry blushed furiously as he brought Harry's tanned hands up to his lips and kissed his knuckles in an extremely sweet un-Malfoy gesture. "But we can't go on like this," he continued, more serious now. "You deserve to know everything, to have all of your memories back. And I'm quite certain that won't happen until you confront your friends. Can you honestly tell me that the mystery wouldn't drive you crazy every minute of every day if you never figured it out?"

"Yes." Harry lied swiftly.

Draco chuckled at the blatant deceit. "This coming from the boy who, at eleven years old, went down the only forbidden corridor of the school, even though he was threatened with a slow, painful death?"

"Technically, that was an accident."

"Don't lie to me."

"Fine. Maybe it would bother me, but I could live with it," Harry protested weakly.

Malfoy shook his head. "I know you could, but I don't want you to."

The brunet sighed and leaned forward, head pressed against the other's chest. He was slightly confused when he didn't feel his pulse, but was quick to figure it out. Lean arms snaked their way around his shoulders, and he had no doubt that Malfoy could feel his shamefully quick pulse.

"I love you, Harry." Harry could feel Draco nuzzling into his hair, pressing a quick kiss to the top of his head.

After a moment of debate, Harry decided, "I'll talk to them about it tonight."

Draco pulled back so that they were eye level. The moment Harry locked gazes with the other boy, he felt a painful lump forming in his throat, dread filing him quickly at the thought of not being able to see the blond ever again after that night.

Before he could process what was happening, one of Draco's strong hands was on the back of his neck and the other was on his hip, and his mouth was on top of Harry's own. It took only a moment longer for Harry to register that he was being kissed, and this time, he responded fervently. The kiss started out soft and slow, and Harry was overwhelmed with both the joy and despair embedded in it. But suddenly Draco's tongue was swiping across his lower lip and then ghosting across the roof of his mouth and Harry was gripping the front of the blond's shirt as though it was the only thing keeping him on his feet, which if he were honest with himself, it probably was. The two melted into one another, and finally, Harry completely understood what Draco and Hermione had both told him about love. Because this _was_ easy. He knew distantly that that night would change everything, and he would probably never see the blond again, but in that very moment, Harry was in love, and there had never been anything quite so simple as that.

Draco pressed on last, gentle kiss to his lips before pulling back. The blond realized with alarm that Harry had been silently crying, tears leaking out from beneath his closed eyelids.

"Why are you crying?" he asked quietly, using his thumbs to wipe away the tears from Harry's face.

Harry smiled. "Because I love you." With a small sense of satisfaction, Harry realized that he had shocked the blond again, and this time he didn't even bother to hide it.

Draco pulled him into a fierce, almost suffocating embrace that he returned just as strongly. "I love you, too, no matter what. Don't ever forget that," he demanded, voice muffled only slightly by the brunet hair.

"I won't." Harry assured him.

The taller boy leaned down and pressed his lips to Harry's once more. When he pulled back this time, Draco was smiling, bright and genuinely. "See you around," he said. Harry understood immediately that this was his way of saying goodbye, for possibly the last time.

"See you," Harry replied as calmly as he could, trying to be equally as strong.

After another long moment, Draco was gone, Harry was suddenly cold, and the lump in his throat had returned with a vengeance. He tried clearing it, to no avail.

He walked calmly to the desk where the ghost had been sitting just minutes ago, and dropped into the uncomfortable chair behind it.

"If you're still in here," he spoke hoarsely to the empty room, "you might want to turn away or leave now." He let another moment pass in silence before he dropped his head into his hands and decided to stop pretending to be brave for once in his life, allowing himself to cry in earnest.

Apparently, this is the part where love became a lot less easy.


	9. Chapter 9

**Author's Note: So, here's the last chapter of YHG! Sorry it took so long to get out, but I'm so busy at college I barely had time to think. I hope you all enjoy this ending. ****Thank you all so much for reading until the end! Can't tell you how grateful I am. Leave a quick review please, and enjoy! :)3**

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><p>"I want to apologize to you both," Harry started, that night in the common rooms. Hermione and Ron had arrived exactly at ten, as he had asked them to. When they had arrived, they were both nervous and looking quite guilty. It was obvious what they thought Harry wanted to talk about. After Harry spoke, however, they glanced confusedly at each other, then back to him. "I've been keeping secrets, and lying to you both, and I know that that isn't how our friendship works. So now, I'm going to come clean." He stared at his hands in his lap, fighting back the sudden urge to cry. He wanted to cry for the past, when he felt as though the three of them were practically the same person, instead of each of them having walls up to protect themselves. And he wanted to cry for the future, one with no Draco, no Hogwarts, and maybe even no Hermione and Ron.<p>

"Harry, what are you talking about?" Hermione reached out to him as if to grab his hand, probably out of habit, but at the last moment stopped herself and let her hand fall to her lap.

"At first, I wanted to tell you everything, but I kept it to myself because he told me to. But things have to change." Harry paused to stare at the confused faces of his friends. "I've been seeing a ghost, guys. A ghost that nobody else can see."

"Whose ghost is it? And why can nobody else see it?"

Harry glanced at Ron, feeling a twinge of betrayal, and looked away quickly. He took a deep breath. "Nobody else can see him because he chose not to reveal himself to anyone else. He told me that nobody else needed to see him, since I was the only one who needed to figure out his death."

"He asked you to figure out his death?" Hermione whispered, as though they weren't the only ones in the common room. As they continued to talk, both Ron and Hermione began to look less confused, and more than a little nervous. Harry was sure, now, that Draco had been right. They were somehow involved in all of this.

"Yes. He used to go here, he was in our year, but he was murdered." His friends' faces were as white and scared as they were the day they had traveled into the chamber of secrets back in their second year. "His name was Draco Malfoy. I used to know him quite well, but for some reason, I couldn't remember a thing about him when he first appeared to me. Isn't that odd?"

Ron nodded, and with a shaking voice he conceded, "Quite odd."

Harry shook his head at the blatant lie, gritting his teeth and trying to keep his temper in check. "Tell me why I couldn't remember him."

"Harry," Hermione started, "Why would we-"

"Stop!" Harry demanded, flying out of his seat as his anger flared. "You're lying to me, I know it. Just tell me what you know."

Starting to tear up, Hermione shook her head. "No, no, we can't. There's a reason you can't remember, Harry. You won't want to remember."

"It's my memory, my choice. I want to remember, so you both need to tell me. What the hell happened last year?"

Ron sighed heavily. "Fine. I'll tell you, mate. But you won't like it."

Harry nodded curtly and sat down. Hermione gaped at Ron for a moment, and then it was she, this time, who shot up off the couch. "No, Ronald! What are you doing?"

The redhead snapped, "I'm telling our best friend the truth. Like we should have done last year, and like we should have done last week. There's no way I'm making the same mistake a third time."

"You'll kill him!" the girl screeched. "Do you remember what he was like last time? Because I do. And I refuse to see him that way ever again."

Harry couldn't completely follow the argument, but decided against intervening as Ron shouted back. "Of course I bloody well remember! But he already knows about Malfoy, and that he knew him in the past. This game is over, Hermione. He needs to know. He was strong enough to beat You-Know-Who, and he'll be strong enough to beat this."

The brunette sniffled and crossed her arms. "Fine, but I refuse to sit and watch this happen. Not again." And with that, she stormed off towards the girls' dormitory.

Ron sighed and turned towards him. "I guess I'll start at the beginning. You and Malfoy never got on well. Since the very first day on the train, we all hated him. As we got older, it only seemed to get worse. We used to duel him and his friends on a semi-regular basis. You two were the school's most infamous rivals."

Harry nodded. This information seemed to fit in with everything he had figured out on his own.

"But then around fourth year, something weird happened." Ron continued. "It seemed like it was out of nowhere, but the fighting stopped, and you two became friends. You never quite told me how it happened, but whenever I asked about it, you would just say, 'We understand each other.' It was so _bizarre_. None of us even liked him or trusted him, but there you were, sneaking off to be with him instead of us whenever you thought we wouldn't take notice. We all just assumed it had something to do with your hero complex. But you know what happened with the war. It started to heat up towards the end of fifth year. His father was a well-known death eater, and you were the Golden Boy. I'm really surprised you two lasted as long as you did, you know?"

Ron took a deep breath, and seemed reluctant to go on, but just as Harry was about to open his mouth, his best friend continued, "Draco took the Dark Mark in the beginning of sixth year. It was weird, though, because for a while there we actually thought the git was on our side. You started ignoring each other in the halls, but me and Hermione always kind of suspected that it was just an act to get everyone off of your backs." Harry scowled but nodded silently, unwilling to interrupt the story. "There was this girl at Hogsmeade, and we found out that Malfoy had cursed the necklace she was wearing, and nearly killed her… Are you sure you want to hear the rest?" Harry nodded again. "Well, once we were back in the castle, you decided to confront him. You found him in the unused girls bathroom, crying."

Harry held up his hand to stop him, eyes wide. This all sounded so familiar. He racked his brain, trying to get his thoughts in order, when suddenly it hit him like a ton of bricks. His dream. It had been _real. _The crying boy in his dream had been Draco. He had walking in, they dueled, and Harry used that… that heinous curse.

"No…" Harry whispered. "I remember. That curse in Snape's textbook. I didn't know what it would do. But I used it against him anyway, and he-" The brunet shot up out of his chair, gripping his hair, before moving his hands down to press his palms into his eyes, trying to block out memories of the boy's body, mangled, lying motionless on the floor, platinum hair soaked in blood. "He died. _I killed Draco Malfoy_."

Just as suddenly as he had realized it, a wall of memories hit him with such a force that all he could do was clutch at his skull. It was as though every single memory that he had lost had finally found its way back to him. His life with Draco was flashing before his eyes in a blur of hatred, anger, confusion, happiness, and above all else, love.

Ron observed his best friend, hunched over and gripping his head, and tried not to panic. He walked over briskly and placed his hand on Harry's back. "Harry, are you alright?"

He shook his head once, briefly. "No, I'm not."

"It was an accident, Harry. You didn't know what that curse would do. When you came back, you were hysterical. It took me and Hermione nearly an hour to figure out what had happened to you. And I know you probably don't wanna hear this, mate, but he was a Death Eater. That's probably what it would have come down to eventually, anyway." Ron was trying desperately to appease him.

"No!" Harry shouted, quickly righting himself and jumping back, putting some distance between himself and the redhead. "It doesn't matter that it was an accident, and it doesn't matter that he worked for Voldemort. He was still a seventeen year old boy, and I murdered him!"

Ron took a small step forward. "Mate, we were both so afraid. After it happened, you were just this empty shell of yourself. And you deserve so much better. I know you guys were friends, but when you accidentally… well, you know. It almost killed you, too."

"I'm in love with him."

Ron paled, the freckles on his cheeks becoming much more prominent. "What?"

"I'M IN LOVE WITH HIM!" Harry shouted, so loudly that people in the dorms probably heard him. Harry bit his lip hard, which managed to calm him down slightly.

The redhead stumbled back as if he was literally blown away by Harry's confession. He took in the distraught face of his best friend, the way his hands were shaking slightly, the way he was blinking furiously to hold back his tears, and he wanted to cry, too. He finally understood why Harry had reacted the way he did last time. Ron and Hermione had always just presumed that Draco was some kind of a charity case for Harry. He was always going on about how he wished Malfoy would come to his senses and join their side, but he never really talked about him as a person. The thought of Harry being in love with the evil git actually brought bile up to his throat, but also made a lot of sense. He had unintentionally killed the boy he was in love with. It meant that when he heard the rest of the story, he and Hermione might never be forgiven.

"Blimey, mate…" He sighed heavily. "I need to tell you something else."

Harry nodded, encouraging him to continue.

"The reason why you couldn't remember him is that…. Just, well, we didn't know how you felt about him. You locked yourself away in your room for weeks. You wouldn't speak to anybody, wouldn't eat, wouldn't sleep. You just sat there and stared into space. We were all so scared, we thought you might never get better." Ron hesitated, dropping his gaze to his hands in his lap. As much as he didn't want to, he forced himself to finish the story. "Me and Hermione went to check on you one day, and you were crying. It was devastating – you're our best friend, we can't stand to see you that way. So without really talking about it, we just knew what we had to do. Hermione raised her wand, and I think you knew what she was going to do. You didn't say anything, really, just started crying even harder. She Obliviated you. We took away your memories of him so that you could get better."

Ron paused and waited for a response. At some point during his explanation, Harry had begun to cry, silent tears making their way down his tan cheeks. He was staring solemnly into the fire. After a few moments, the silence made Ron so uncomfortable that he continued, "When you woke up the next day, you were back to your old self. You weren't so miserable anymore. Me and Hermione were so relieved that I guess we convinced ourselves that what we had done wasn't wrong. But if we had known, Harry, we never would have… We really shouldn't have… I'm sorry. For everything." He sighed when his friend remained silent. "Please say something."

The brunet turned slowly to face him. "You were right to make me forget," he choked out.

Ron stared at the other, who was weeping openly in the middle of the common room, and wished that he had a clue of what he could do to console him.

As if on cue, Hermione came bounding into the common room, and Ron breathed a sigh of relief. He had known that she wasn't really going to leave Harry when he would need her the most. It was surprising when she had even left in the first place, though it seemed she hadn't gotten very far. She threw herself into Harry's arms without a second thought, burying her face in the crook of his neck and crying with him.

"I'm sorry, Harry," she kept repeating. "I'm so sorry."

At first it looked as though Harry would push her away, but her grip around his neck was firm, and eventually, he locked his arms around her waist and dropped his head onto her shoulder. Ron felt disconnected, and a little bit forgotten, but sat in the armchair and let the two have their moment.

After several minutes, their racking sobs were reduced to mere sniffles and the occasional hiccup. Harry pulled back, wiping his face with the sleeve of his robes, and looking away, ashamed.

"Why didn't you tell us?" Ron asked quietly.

Harry blinked owlishly at him with his puffy red eyes before shrugging and dropping wearily onto the couch, exhausted. "Because you guys hated him, and refused to get to know him like I did. Why would I tell you when all you would have done was criticize us?"

Hermione and Ron glanced guiltily at each other, but remained silent. None of them spoke for several minutes, all lost in their own thoughts, until Harry stood up and said quietly, "I'm going to bed."

The brunette girl nodded and stood to put her hand on his arm. "Are you going to be all right?"

_No,_ Harry thought scornfully, but forced a smile and nodded. "Eventually."

Hermione gathered him into another too-tight hug, and Ron stood awkwardly beside them. "We really are sorry, mate. We would do anything to take it all back."

"I know," Harry nodded, glancing at his friends one last time before climbing the stairs, too exhausted to do anything besides fall in bed, take off his glasses, and cry himself to sleep.

Two weeks passed, and Harry's life seemed to be returning to normal. He woke up when he was supposed to, got to classes on time, did his assignments and studied for exams. He talked to his friends and played Quidditch, and nobody but Ron and Hermione suspected that anything was wrong.

Whenever they asked him how he was doing, he nodded and answered truthfully, "I'm getting by."

Even Ron and Hermione knew 'getting by' wasn't the same as him being happy. Harry hadn't been eating. He always showed up for meals, but usually just pushed the food around on his plate, appearing to be somewhere else in his mind. He was losing weight quickly, and nobody had seen Harry smile in weeks. All of the life and joy that used to emanate from him wherever he went was gone, leaving behind just a boy, going about his daily routines on auto-pilot.

Harry sighed quietly as he climbed into the portrait of the Fat Lady. All he could do was run through all of his recovered memories countless times in his head, wondering if things could have ended differently. He could have never confronted Hermione and Ron, so that Draco never would have disappeared. Being with a ghost would be better than not having Draco around at all. Or he could have just never opened up Snape's Potions book, and not have used that spell that fateful day. He could have still been alive today.

Harry was glad he had time between classes to just lay down and rest, something he had been doing often lately. Draco had been with him in his dreams every night since he disappeared. He threw himself down onto his bed and crawled under his covers, keeping his eyes firmly shut against thoughts that could very well drive him mad.

* * *

><p><em>"You haven't been eating."<em>

_Harry smiled and walked over to Draco, who was leaning casually against the bathroom sink._

_"Why do you care?" he retorted playfully, sitting on the sink next to the blond._

_Draco sighed, frustrated. "I don't. Why won't you eat?"_

_"That sounds like caring to me." Harry grinned._

_A muscle in the blond's jaw twitched, and he replied seriously, "Pretend it doesn't."_

_Harry hesitated before hopping off of the sink and walking across the room, realizing that Draco was actually quite agitated. "I'm not hungry," he explained simply._

_"Eat anyway." Draco demanded._

_Harry nodded and stared at his feet. None of his other dreams had been like this. "Fine… I miss you."_

_Draco rolled his eyes, but his posture softened considerably. "You're a girl."_

_"You don't miss me?"_

_"Of course I do."_

_The brunet smiled and walked over to Draco, wrapping his arms around him. "Are you happy?" he asked into the blond's shirt._

_"No." Draco replied, placing his hands gently on the other's back._

_"Me neither."_

_Draco nodded and pulled back, his grey eyes meeting green ones. "I love you."_

_Harry smiled brilliantly as Draco leaned down and pressed a kiss to his forehead. "I love you, too."_

* * *

><p>Harry woke up slowly, and it took him a moment to realize that his face was completely soaked with tears. He sat up and wiped them away hastily. Afterwards he sat solemnly for several moments, before sighing heavily.<p>

He was tired. He was cold. He was alone. And that's all he would ever be, until the day that he was finally reunited with the one he loved.

He glanced sideways at his wand. Harry never usually let such thoughts enter his mind, but sometimes he thought it would be easier just to speed the whole process up. He picked up the thin piece of wood absentmindedly, twirling it in his fingers and watching it with interest. With just a few simple words, he could be free to be with Draco for all of eternity. He had heard of wizards who had done it before, of course, but very few. Suicide was far less common in the wizarding world than in the Muggle world.

Harry knew he wouldn't do it. He couldn't, really. A wizard killing himself was a crime against nature. Who knows what could go wrong? He couldn't risk not ending up in the same place as Draco. So when he lifted the wand to his temple and closed his eyes, it wasn't to actually take any action, but more to imagine what it would be like, closing the gap between Draco and himself for good.

"What the bloody hell do you think you're doing?"

Harry opened his eyes with a start, dropping his wand to his lap immediately. When his eyes landed on the intruder, he almost laughed out loud. Draco was standing at the end of his bed, eyes spitting fire.

"Oh," Harry muttered, "I'm still dreaming."

"You're a bloody idiot," Draco spat, watching the wand in Harry's hand like a hawk.

Harry just stared at Draco, transfixed. He knew this was a dream, but it felt so real. He finally tore his gaze away to look down at his wand. Well, if this was a dream, maybe he could do it. Just to see what it would be like. He had barely raised it a fraction of an inch before Draco was on him, holding his wrist down.

"What are you doing?" he demanded, more furious than Harry had ever seen him.

"Oh, relax. This is just a dream. If I actually did anything, I would just wake up." Harry explained, vaguely annoyed by Draco's extreme reaction.

"No," Draco insisted, "Potter, you're not dreaming. This is _real_."

The brunet shook his head sadly. "No it isn't. You're here."

Draco groaned and lifted his hand, placing it gently on Harry's shoulder… before pinching his arm with all of his strength.

"Shit!" Harry yelled, recoiling from the other and clamping his hand down on his arm, which was sure to bruise. "What was that for?" he asked angrily.

"To get it through your thick skull that _you. Are. Awake_."

Harry stared at Draco for a moment longer before his heart shot up into his throat. Draco was back. He was real.

Without wasting another moment, he threw himself into the blond's waiting arms, gripping the front of his shirt and sobbing like a child, without giving a second thought to how pathetic he looked. Draco stroked his hair soothingly and let him cry without interrupting, occasionally pressing a kiss to the top of his head.

After a while, Harry quieted, and eventually drew back. "You're really here." Draco nodded. "But how?"

The edges of Draco's mouth curved up in a smirk. "Unfinished business."

"I thought that was just me finding out how you-" Harry choked, a wave of guilt and shame hitting him like never before.

Draco immediately reached out to grab his hand, and shushed him quietly. "Don't think about it. I forgive you. It's fine now. Did you get all of your memories back?"

Harry nodded.

"Good. Then this was all worth it." Draco nodded confidently.

"But why are you still here?" the brunet asked when he regained his composure.

Draco grimaced. "Well, it seems I made a bit of a mistake."

"Mistake?"

"Well, I thought that my unfinished business was you finding out what happened. As it turns out, it's just… you."

Harry blinked owlishly at the other. "Me?"

Draco nodded. "You're still holding on to me so tightly that there's no way I could cross over into the other side, even if I wanted to."

"So… you can stay?"

Draco frowned. "Yes. But are you sure that's what you want? You could never have a normal life with me. Even though I'm here, I'm still a ghost. I'll be holding you back."

The brunet lunged forward and cupped the other's face in his hands. "All I want is you," he answered slowly, making sure Draco knew how serious he was. "I don't care about anything else, I just want you to stay."

Harry searched his face as he remained completely silent. Finally, a smile more genuine than Harry had ever seen on the blond spread across his face and transformed him into someone so beautiful that all Harry could do was stare, transfixed..

"Okay then," Draco answered, reaching out and tucking a brunet strand of hair behind Harry's ear, "I'll stay."

A life that he had never imagined was possible was slowly playing before Harry's eyes. He would graduate, move into his own home. He would get a job, maybe as a Healer or an Auror. Maybe he would even adopt a kid. The entire time, Draco would be by his side, despite everything that had held them back from being together. They would never be a conventional couple, but then again, when had anything in Harry's life ever been conventional?

In the end, though, he knew Draco was right. Being in a relationship was hard. They'd had fights before, and in the years to come, he knew there'd be many more.

A love that stronger than Death itself, though, that's a love worth fighting for. And Harry would fight for it until the day that he died, and then for all of eternity afterwards.


End file.
